Everything Changes
by comicbooklovergreen
Summary: Sequel to 'All They Knew.' A kiss leads to an accident, which leads to examinations of the past. All this may just lead to Dick and Barbara coming back together. Contains spoilers for Batman Beyod RotJ
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** Greetings everyone. Some of you may be familiar with a little story I wrote back in August titled 'All They Knew.' If you're not familiar with it, then I hope you decide to check it out, since this story is a direct sequel to that one. Now before we get to the story, I'd like to point out that although I have some vague ideas about where this story is going, it is still very much up in the air. As far as I can tell (and please correct me if I'm wrong) this story and its predecessor could technically fall within the continuity established in Batman Beyond. Fans of that show will remember that Barbara ended up married to someone other than our favorite ex Boy Wonder. I might end up writing this story in a way that neatly ties in with that chain of events, or I may veer off into my own little universe and throw continuity to the wind. I would greatly appreciate any ideas, thoughts, or opinions you have on what direction to go with this. Also, I want to thank everyone who reviewed the earlier story. I'm writing this sequel for you guys and I honestly didn't mean to make you wait so long for another installment. There were several false starts before I hit on an idea that worked. Happy holidays everybody.

**Disclaimer: **The characters don't belong to me. I am making absolutely no profit from their use in this story, its just a way to burn time during my vacation. The title for the story as well as the lyrics come from the song 'Everything Changes' by Staind. I didn't write that either. Please don't sue me as I am but a lowly college student

* * *

If you just walked away  
What could I really say?  
Would it matter anyway?  
Would it change how you feel?

I am the mess you chose  
The closet you cannot close  
The devil in you I suppose  
'Cause the wounds never heal

* * *

"There you are. Planning to sneak out a window?"

"Something like that."

Closing the door with the hand not holding her glass of champagne, Barbara watched Dick stare fixedly at the dying embers in the fireplace. "It's almost midnight; you're going to miss the countdown."

"There are three hundred drunken investors in the living room. I think I'll be able to hear it from here."

"Everyone's been looking for you,"

Half-turning away from his perusal of the quickly dwindling flames, Dick favored her with a rueful smile. "Everyone?"

"Yeah," Barbara replied, frowning at the air of sadness that seemed to encompass him. "Everyone."

"So…Alfred then?"

"You would think, but no. Actually it was Tim. He mentioned something about shaving cream and bottle rockets?"

"Yeah, you might be safer not knowing the details."

"Well, if he does anything to liven up this snore fest, Alfred will skin him alive."

"I'm sure Alfred would, but our host Mr. Congeniality would probably dump an extra million into the kid's trust fund."

"Only if it ended the party within the next three minutes, otherwise I'm betting fifty thousand." Crossing to stand next to him, Barbara raised her glass to her lips, using the action to mask her quick but thorough inspection of the former Boy Wonder. Tonight, he'd traded in his Nightwing uniform for a seldom worn tux.

"How did Alfred manage to convince him to throw this thing anyway?"

"My guess? Constant, unending nagging since at least February."

Dick nodded absently and began fiddling with the knot on his tie.

"Hey," Barbara said softly, running her thumb along the back of his hand. "What's up with you?"

She watched his eyes fly up to meet hers before settling back on his well-polished black shoes. "Come on, Barb, I hate these things almost as much as Bruce does."

He was lying and they both knew it. "Then why'd you show up in the first place?"

For an eternally long moment, the crackling fire was the only sound in the room. Then finally, without looking directly at her, Dick murmured, "I need to go."

"Sneaking out huh? Mind if I tag along?" It was a pointless attempt to lighten the mood, play dumb, pretend that she didn't know exactly what he was telling her.

Holding her gaze for the first time since this exchange began, Dick shook his head in the negative. "I can't spend another year like this Barbara. I'm leaving Gotham."

It was now Barbara's turn to avoid eye contact. Slowly, taking far more care then the act required, she went to place her wineglass on a nearby end table. Idly, she recalled that that particular piece of furniture was crafted sometime in the early fourteenth century. Alfred would skin _her_ alive if he discovered even the slightest hint of a ring.

All the coasters were scattered in other rooms.

And she was stuck in here.

With Dick.

Dick who was taking off with virtually no warning.

Again.

"Two years away wasn't enough?"

"I'm sorry; I never meant to hurt you."

"Don't flatter yourself."

"Babs..."

"I'm honored, actually. At least I got a goodbye this time."

"You knew I couldn't stand working with him anymore."

Barbara wasn't sure if he was referring to the first time he'd disappeared or the more recent declaration to do so. It hardly mattered one way or the other "I knew you were angry, I knew you were upset. You'd been angry and upset for a long time before that without abandoning everything the next day."

Dick was suddenly in front of her, searching for her eyes. "There was nothing left to abandon. The only thing I still cared about was you, and you'd already made your choice."

"Is that what this is about, is that why you're so bitter? Did you seriously expect me to pick a side in the little war you had going with Bruce?"

"Like I said, you already had," he answered darkly.

"How could I, you never gave me the chance! You ran away without so much as a second look."

"Are you saying that if I told you I was leaving things would've been different?"

Barbara opened her mouth to respond, only to close it a few seconds later. Dick's whole bearing had changed when he'd asked that question, his voice going considerably softer. And the way he was looking at her, the intensity of it…

"Barbara?"

Swallowing hard, the redhead forced herself to speak. "You don't sound like you're talking hypothetically."

Another long pause, the silence unbearably heavy. Then, "Come with me."

Thankfully, Barbara was a very controlled person when she needed to be, and was therefore able to stifle her first reaction to Dick's request. Nervous, disbelieving laughter surely would've hurt things rather than helped them. "You're being serious."

"It's not something to joke about."

"Dick this…this is insane. I can't…this is crazy."

"After what we've both dealt with, you consider _this _crazy?"

"When my entire life is here, you haven't even told me where you're going, and you spring it on me like this? Yeah, I consider that crazy."

"Bludhaven."

Barbara who'd been trying to estimate the number of inmates currently held at Arkham and, more importantly, whether the facility had enough room to house one more, was caught off guard by the statement. "What?"

"I'm moving to Bludhaven. You know how close that is to Gotham. I'm not asking you to pick up and move to Alaska."

"My life is here," she repeated.

"You mean Bruce is here."

"It's not just Bruce and you know it. It's my father, Tim, Alfred, my job…"

"So Bruce then."

Frustrated beyond measure with Dick's unreasonableness, Barbara was finding it difficult keeping her emotions in check. "Do you really hate him that much?"

"No, no I don't. I'm not stupid, Barbara, I know what he did for me."

"Then why?"

"Because I know what he's doing to you, too, and I'm tired of it."

"How many times are we going to argue this? He didn't force me into this life, I chose it."

"I know that now, I do. That's not the point."

"Then what is?"

"It'll end badly, Barbara, one way or another. You're smart enough to know that. When I left the first time, I didn't think I'd ever come back- "

"Then why did you," she cut in harshly.

"I didn't think I'd ever come back," he went on as if there'd been no interruption. "This time I know I'll be back eventually."

"What are you saying, Dick? Because for someone who claims to be nothing like Bruce you sure managed to pick up his cryptic non-answer habit."

"I'm saying I don't want to come back here for your funeral."

"Dick, you can't-"

"Barbara don't. You're the math whiz, you know all about statistics. We can't keep winning, it's just not possible. I'm going to get a call one day from Alfred or Leslie or whoever telling me that we rolled the dice one too many times and that'll be it. And if it's not you it'll be Tim. Or Bruce. I can't be here when that happens."

Barbara looked away, blinking her eyes rapidly to keep the tears from falling. She couldn't even fight him on that one because deep down she knew he was right. Of course, that didn't mean she was about to give up. "What are you going to do? When you get there I mean. We both know you're an adrenaline junkie. Somehow I don't picture you sitting behind a desk for eight hours a day."

"I'm…I'm thinking of becoming a cop."

"A cop? You're kidding right? You want to preach to me about risk-"

"It's nor preaching and the risk isn't anywhere near the same kevel. And when it comes to you getting hurt, I'm not just talking physically. Say your luck doesn't run out, that you keep going without getting shot or paralyzed or ending up in a coma. It won't matter because you'll still wind up with nothing. Bruce and his rules and his mission will take everything you have and it still won't be enough."

"So you asking me to come with you is what? You don't want to play hero anymore but you still want to save me from him?"

"I want you to be happy, Barb. You're not going to get that if you keep doing this."

"And disappearing all that time, moving from place to place, that made _you _happy?"

"No, but it was better than being here. Every time I experienced a little bit of happiness, every time I did something for myself he made me feel guilty. I was being selfish for taking you to a movie once a month. I was being selfish when I decided to study for my midterms instead of chasing Killer Croc through the sewers. I'll admit that he's changed, but not that much. He'll treat you and Tim the same way he treated me. Is that what you want?"

He was pleading with her with a fervor that bordered on desperation. For the first time in over two years, there were no walls between them. His eyes begged her to give in, to understand.

"I can't." That couldn't have been her voice. That shaky, choked whisper sounded nothing like her. Yet by the look on Dick's face, she knew it had to have come from her lips.

"You sure?" The acoustics in this room must be off. Dick didn't sound like himself either.

"Yeah." It was winter. She was coming down with something. A cold probably. That would explain the golf ball sized lump in her throat.

"There's nothing I could say?"

She shook her head. "I couldn't convince you to sleep on this for a few nights?"

He mirrored her earlier action.

Barbara listened as the party guests began chanting backwards from ten.

By the time they'd reached five, what little distance there'd been between Dick and herself was gone.

Somewhere between five and zero, his lips brushed against hers. The kiss was brief, tender, and full of loss.

She heard the joyous shouts of party guests, heard glasses clinking together in toasts to a happy new year. At least someone was happy. She wasn't sure who had initiated the kiss, but she was definitely the one to break it. Dick's face was a picture of sadness.

"Sorry."

He wasn't apologizing for the kiss. She didn't want him to. "Yeah, me too."

Dick nodded rather awkwardly, meeting her eyes one last time. "Goodbye, Babs."

"Bye."

* * *

That kiss was a long time ago.

Several years at least, though she was having difficulty remembering exactly what year they had rung in together that night.

They shouldn't be doing this.

_She _shouldn't be doing this.

It was a purely emotional response that would only complicate an already difficult situation.

A month ago, she'd shown up at his apartment unannounced, an emotional train wreck.

He called her the following week, asking what she thought of the idea of starting things over between them. No pressure, no strings, he just wanted her back in his life. As a friend.

Naturally, having lost contact with almost everyone else she'd ever cared about, Barbara agreed.

It wasn't a big deal. So there was history there, so what?

They didn't talk again.

Until last night when he called her and casually inquired as to what she was doing to celebrate the New Year.

She should've lied, told him she had a party or a date or a root canal planned for that evening.

Instead, she'd been honest.

And now here they were.

In his apartment.

Kissing.

As usual, Barbara wasn't sure who made contact first. All things considered, that piece of information was probably irrelevant anyway.

"Sorry," Dick mumbled as he pulled away.

'"Don't be."

And, just because they hadn't had enough awkward pauses between them over the years, here was one more to add to the list.

"So…what now?"

Barbara shrugged helplessly. His guess was as good as hers.

In fact, there was only one thing she knew for certain at that moment. Things with Dick were about to get complicated again and she had absolutely no idea how to deal with that.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: **Man, I can't believe this is going to be my last chapter posting for 2008. Time certainly seems to have flown. Anyway, here's part two. Like it or hate it, send me a review as long as it's constructive. Everyone have a safe and happy new year and I'll see you all in 2009!

He'd been dreading this call.

There were no mentions of Nightwing's exploits in the papers, but Dick was certain she'd already found out. It would be just like her to make him sweat a few days before chewing him out. And to call him at this time of night, interrupting what should've been a rare and peaceful eight hours of sleep.

In the months before he'd left, Barbara had become something of an information addict. That combined with her hacking skills did not bode well for him. Or the rest of the world.

He'd come downstairs during a visit to the Manor to find her typing away furiously in front of the Batcave's computer. That sight in and of itself was hardly unusual, but the level of concentration she was putting into the task was.

"_So what's everyone's favorite Big Sister working on tonight huh? Researching a new drug? Tracking a super villain? Breaking into Arkham's computer system?"_

"_Nope." She mumbled without looking away from the monitor._

"_Tim finally convince you to go into the school's system and change his grades?"_

"_Nope, poor kid hasn't mastered the art of bribery yet."_

_Sighing dramatically, Dick moved to stand behind her chair, one arm draped over the top of it. When he was close enough to see what she was doing, his mouth dropped open in shock._

"_That can't possibly be what I think it is."_

_Barbara ignored him._

"_Barbara, please tell me you haven't hacked into the Pentagon's private files."_

"_I haven't hacked into the Pentagon's private files."_

"_You're lying to me again aren't you?"_

"_Only because you told me to."_

"_Barbara, what do you think Bruce is going to say when a bunch of government agents show up at the mansion's front door?"_

_Swiveling her chair so they were facing each other, the redhead, gazed at him with a wounded expression. "You seriously think I'd let myself get caught?"_

Yes, Barbara truly was a force to be reckoned with, in more ways than one. Which brought Dick right back to the reason he was dreading this call.

He'd told her he was done with the superhero gig forever, said he was ready to make a difference in another way.

And now Bludhaven had its own private costumed vigilante.

Rolling over to reach the phone on his nightstand, Dick turned it on before pulling the covers back over his head. "Yeah?"

Silence, the crackle of static. "Dick?"

She didn't sound angry, meaning that she was waiting for just the right moment to launch her verbal assault. "Barbara, this is a surprise."

"I'm sorry to call so late. I guess you must've been sleeping."

"Oh no, are you kidding? Everyone knows that all the best infomercials come on at four in the morning."

His admittedly bad joke didn't get a response.

"Babs?"

"The Joker escaped. So did Harley."

Cursing to himself, Dick sat up, threw the covers back and flicked the switch on his bedside lamp. "Again? So much for that bigger, better, 'high security' location."

No answer.

"Barbara? Talk to me. Do you need backup? What's the situation? Do we know what he's planning?" Dick was already up and, yanking his dresser drawers open.

And Barbara still wasn't talking.

"Babs, come on, you're scaring me here. What's going on?"

"He's not planning anything, neither of them are."

Dick froze his old Gotham University sweatshirt in hand. "You captured them already?"

"No."

He dropped the shirt. "They won't be planning anything again, will they?"

"No."

"Oh God, Barbara…"

"They got him, Dick. They took him. They took Tim."

The young policeman's heart stopped beating. "Is he alive?"

"Yes."

A painful jolt as his heart restarted. "Is he okay?" Foolish question. She wouldn't call this late if the kid was unharmed, if it had just been another close call. Those happened far too often to warrant a late-night phone conversation, especially considering the way they'd left things.

"No." The reply was said on a quick, choked breath. She was fighting not to cry.

And suddenly Dick was fighting as well. The simple process of bringing air to his lungs now seemed impossible. The boy was hurt, his adopted brother was hurt. He hadn't been there. Selfish coward that he was, he hadn't been there and now Tim was-

"Dick? Dick, are you there?" Barbara's voice was still pained and shaky, but she seemed to have regained some control. It was time for him to do the same. Squaring his shoulders and taking as deep a breath as he could manage, Dick forced himself to be strong.

The time had come, as he always knew it would.

Their streak of lucky breaks and close calls was over.

Now it was time to deal with the fallout.

"I'll be right there."

* * *

"Master Dick, it's so good to see you again."

The younger man tried to smile as he dropped his duffel to the floor, but all he could muster was a pained grimace. "You too, Alfred, I just wish it was under better circumstances."

"Don't we all."

"Hey," Dick said softly as he watched Barbara coming forward to meet him.

"Hey," she answered, matching his soft tone. Up close he noticed the dark circles under red rimmed eyes, the paleness of her skin clashing horribly with her hair. She was still beautiful, just as she always would be, but there was no hiding the fact that she'd been put through the ringer

"Well, I'll leave you two alone. Master Dick, will your old room be acceptable or shall I put this elsewhere?"

The old butler was already bending to pick up Dick's bag, but the younger man would have none of it. Placing a hand on Alfred's shoulder, Dick grabbed the bag himself. This time he did manage a grateful smile. "My old room is fine, Alfred, but l can take care of this."

"Nonsense, Master Dick. I am perfectly capable of-"

"I know that, Alfred, but so am I. I'm sure you've got things to do. Let me carry my own luggage this one time and I promise to let you wash my dinner dishes."

Alfred looked like he was about to protest, but apparently chose to pick his battles. "Very well Master Dick. However, should either of you require anything else I really must insist that you-"

"We get it, Alfred, don't worry. If Barbara breaks a nail you'll be the first to know."

"Thank you, Master Dick, that certainly is reassuring."

"Knew it would be."

Two pairs of eyes watched their old friend turn the corner. Barbara waited until he was out of earshot to speak. "Thanks for coming."

Dick waved his hand in dismissal. "Where else would I be?"

Former teammates who were so much more than that stared deeply into each other's eyes, a silent exchange taking place between them.

"Later?"

"Yeah, later."

They needed to talk. About so many things. But it could wait. It _had to wait. There were more important things ahead of them now. "Where is he?"_

"Upstairs with Bruce and Leslie."

Nodding curtly, Dick allowed her to precede him up to Tim's room.

* * *

"You going to be okay?"

"Fine," Dick mumbled. He sat slumped against the couch, head resting on his knees. Barbara was opposite him in one of the chairs.

"You look like you're going to puke."

"I'll aim away from you." The room fell silent for a few minutes until Dick finally lifted his head and straightened up. Shooting the redhead an agitated look, he got up and began pacing the room.

"I'm sorry; I know it's not easy to see."

"Did you see the marks?"

"Yes, Dick."

"He was tied down, Barbara."

"I know that Dick, I was there."

"He was tied down like a wild animal."

"He gets violent if we don't restrain him."

"Did you hear what Leslie said?"

"Dick, calm down."

"I am calm!"

That probably would've sounded better if he hadn't slammed his fist into the nearest wall. "I'm fine," he growled out. "Excuse me for not having as much time to get used to that as you've had."

"Get used to it," Barbara repeated incredulously. "You think that's something I can get used to?"

"No," he replied after a moment. "No. "

"Good."

He'd stopped pacing a few feet away from her chair. Moving closer, he stood in front her, feeling the sting of oncoming tears. "What did they do to him in there?"

Barbara tensed visibly, "I already told you-"

"You gave me the smallest amount of information that you possibly could."

"You know what you need to know."

"Yeah, I know that Leslie thinks he might never recover. I want to know why. What did they do to him?"

"Talk to Bruce."

"No."

"Then let it go."

"Bruce hasn't said two words to me since I came into this house. I'm not asking your boyfriend, Barbara, I'm asking you." He saw the surprise in her eyes and looked away. "You two made the society page of the _Gotham Gazette_."

Barbara cringed. "When?"

"Last month, some charity event. Fundraiser for underprivileged children I think."

Barbara cringed again. "I'd forgotten about that."

"Yeah, with everything going on that I'm just now finding out about, that's understandable. So tell me what happened in Arkham."

"Dick, you can barely stand up as it is. Don't ask questions you don't want to know the answers to."

"There's a difference between wanting to know and needing to know," he told her, his tone low and urgent.

"Dick, I have cried more in the last week than I have in my entire life. I've gone in there late at night to stop him from crying, only to hear him laughing like a maniac two seconds later. He tried to strangle me three days ago after he managed to loosen the straps on his bed. And Bruce, Bruce hates himself so much now that he can barely function. I'm sorry I didn't call you sooner, I'm sorry I screwed up again, and I'm sorry I wasn't there to protect him. But please, _please, _if we ever meant anything to each other, don't make me relive that right now because I can't. If I do, I swear to you that I will break down again for the millionth time, and I really, really, don't think I could handle that."

Dick looked at her in stunned silence, noting how suspiciously bright her eyes had become. "Babs," he whispered hoarsely, "I'm sorry."

She nodded, turning her head away from him. Suddenly feeling incredibly weak, he dropped to his knees, gazing up at her with a single tear rolling down his face. "I just…I didn't think…I wasn't expecting…"

Horror filled him as he realized that Barbara wasn't the one about to break down. Barbara was the stronger one, the better one. He'd run away, living in fear of this very situation. She'd stayed here to meet it head-on.

He hadn't cried since he was nine.

He was crying now.

And she was holding him, running her fingers through his hair.

One minute he was yelling at her, the next he was sobbing in her lap like a small child.

He should've told her that it wasn't her fault. She'd talked about failing to protect Tim and he hadn't said anything to contradict her.

God but he could be an idiot sometimes.

* * *

Idiot.

He, Dick Grayson, was a complete and total idiot.

Finally, after all this time Barbara was back in his life, back where he could see her and talk to her and know that she didn't hate him.

And, after assuring her that the past was the past, that they could start fresh without any of their old complications, that he would not, under any circumstances, even think of pressuring her into a romantic relationship, what had he done?

Dick Grayson, college graduate with high honors, had kissed her.

He wanted to blame it on the champagne, but couldn't muster up the self-denial to do it properly.

Still, there was the small matter of her kissing him back.

But then she'd pulled away.

And practically run out screaming a short time later.

That had been a few hours ago. Dick had spent the majority of that time beating himself up while attempting to come up with a way to fix things.

He'd call her. Maybe not tomorrow, but definitely the next day. He'd call her and apologize and apologize some more until-

Why was someone calling him at three in the morning?

Barbara, that was it. She was calling to scream and berate him for his behavior. Well, he did deserve it. Sitting up in bed, he fumbled with the cordless phone. "Hey Babs. Listen I'm really sorry about…"

Dick trailed off as he listened to the caller. Suddenly couldn't breathe. He swallowed audibly as the person continued to speak.

"I'll be right there," he said quickly, diving toward his dresser before even hanging up the phone.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** Yes, I'm aware of how sinfully long it's been since I've updated this. To be honest, I've had a serious motivation problem lately, and I apologize for leaving you guys hanging for this long. I'm not sure that my motivation has totally come back yet, but I'll try my best to get the next chapter out as quickly as possible.

There are slight spoilers here for the episode entitled 'Over the Edge,' so be warned if you haven't seen it already. Also, the relapse idea used here was not mine. I stole it from issue 13 of the Batman Beyond comic series.

All errors are entirely my fault, so please forgive any grammar mistakes. And please, please, _please _review; it really helps kick my muse into gear.

* * *

"Alfred has dinner ready."

Barbara, sitting cross-legged on the bed with her laptop in front of her, spared him a quick glance before returning her eyes to the screen. "Thanks, I think I'll skip it tonight."

Dick nodded, but didn't move from her doorway. Instead he stood on the threshold, hands buried in the pockets of his jeans. "Thank you," he finally said.

Frowning, Barbara tore her eyes from the computer, giving him a questioning look. "For what?"

Shrugging awkwardly, Dick stepped into the guest bedroom Barbara used when she visited the Manor. He wondered how close she and Bruce had become. Did she normally share a room with the billionaire? Was she using this room now so that he wouldn't feel so awkward? And did he really want to know the answer to any of those questions? "For being there I guess. I didn't mean to put you in that position."

"Don't apologize. You love him too. Besides, I already told you how many times I've lost it recently."

"Well," Dick relied in hopes of lightening the mood, "Don't let it get out that I was crying like a five year old on the living room floor, I might lose my membership in the Justice League."

"You don't _have _a membership in the Justice League, Dick."

"Just like you to point out my shortcomings when I'm emotionally vulnerable," he joked, stepping further into the room.

"What, you're not secure enough to let Flash and Green Lantern know that you occasionally behave like a human being?"

"I spent my childhood running around in brightly colored tights, Barbara; don't talk to me about being secure in my masculinity." Perching next to her on the bed, Dick glanced at the lines of computer code covering the monitor screen. "What are you working on?"

Sighing, Barbara typed a few commands before closing the laptop. "If it's not strictly legal, do you really want to know?"

"No," Dick replied after a moment's hesitation, "Probably not." Pausing in thought, he said, "I guess we all have our coping mechanisms."

"Do we now?"

"Sure," Dick answered, smiling at her teasing tone. "You hack into government databases, I make incredibly bad jokes that no one laughs at."

"That's your coping mechanism?"

"Yeah, why?"

"No reason."

"Barbara."

"What? I didn't say anything."

"Barbara."

"What? "

"What's the joke?"

"Nothing, you just must've had a lot more to cope with than I ever realized."

"Are you implying that my jokes were never funny," the dark haired man asked, eyebrows knitting together.

"Of course not, I'd never imply anything like that."

"Okay then. I guess we know what your other coping mechanism is."

"Do we now?"

"Yup, you cope by making me miserable."

"That has more to do with personal enjoyment than coping techniques."

"You always did know how to make a guy feel better."

"I try my best."

For a few moments, Nightwing and Batgirl disappeared, leaving Dick and Barbara behind. They could've been twenty years old again, still with secrets between them, but also still able to laugh, to look each other in the eye, to just _be _together without tension or sadness. Unfortunately, like so many other good things in their lives, this escape to a simpler time couldn't last.

"I suppose Joker did win after all."

Shifting himself closer to the redhead, Dick placed a tentative hand on her back, relieved when she didn't pull away. "I don't believe that, and neither do you."

"Dick, you saw Tim, you saw what-"

"Tim's still here," he cut in forcefully. "We all are. "

"There's more to life than just being alive."

"I know. We'll make him okay again."

"You really believe that?" Her voice was a mixture of hope and skepticism, her eyes boring into his made it impossible to lie.

"I don't know," Dick admitted. "But we have to believe in something don't we?"

Barbara didn't respond, though he saw her nod slightly out of the corner of his eye. They sat next to each other like that for a few minutes, both lost in their own thoughts. Dick began drawing shapes on the redhead's back, where his hand still rested. He stopped when he realized that there was a pattern to his seemingly aimless motions: he was drawing a bat.

"So Nightwing flies again."

A muscle twitched in Dick's jaw. So Barbara did know about his emergence from retirement. "Yeah, I decided I could do more good with the costume than without it."

"I thought you wanted to stay within the law from now on."

"I'm still with the police department, it's just not enough. The system is broken, corrupted, there's too much that I can't do as Dick Grayson."

Barbara looked up at him and smiled again, though there was an air of sadness to it. "Doesn't that sound familiar?"

"Yeah, I know, the son becoming the father and all of that good stuff. Lucky Bruce wasn't a drunk or a drug addict."

"And being back in the vigilante game? How do you feel about that?"

Sighing he replied, "Old habits die hard, bad habits die harder I guess."

"I don't think I buy that," Barbara replied after a moment.

"No?"

"Nope, in my experience old habits die hard, bad habits don't die at all."

"Not true, I've broken plenty of bad habits."

"Yes, Dick, I'm sure you have."

"Why do I feel like you're humoring me?"

"I'm not. You say you've kicked some bad habits, you've kicked some bad habits."

"Damn straight," the former acrobat muttered.

"I bet you don't even leave your socks hanging off doorknobs anymore."

Dick said nothing.

"Or wipe your mouth with your sleeve."

Scowling, the young vigilante remained silent.

"Or snore."

Now he looked positively insulted. "I do _not _snore!"

"You do actually."

"No I don't.'

"Yes you do."

"Barbara."

"Dick, I think I would know. Trust me, you snore."

"Well you hog the covers," he accused in a falsely childish voice.

"Shut up!" Barbara exclaimed, though she was half-laughing as she said it.

"Come on, Babs, there's nothing wrong with being a cover hog."

"Which I'm not.'

"Oh but you are, Barbara. I think I would know."

She glared daggers at him. He winked at her.

They shared another smile. For the second time that night, they forgot why they were there, forgot the honorific circumstances that put them in the same room.

But only for a moment. Always only for a moment.

"Bruce is still with Tim."

It wasn't a question, but Barbara answered as if it was. "Yeah, barely leaves his side."

"We should go in there."

"I know."

Neither of them moved. It wasn't that they didn't care, they both thought of Tim Drake as a kid brother. It wasn't even that they wanted to stay in Barbara's room, just the two of them. The flirtation between them, both knew that nothing could come of it, that it wasn't even about romance or attraction. Not this time at least.

This time it was solely about comfort, familiarity.

The Joker hadn't won. He couldn't have won because they were both here, together. They could still tease each other; still take comfort in each other, which meant that that deranged maniac hadn't destroyed everything.

No, the reason they didn't move had nothing to do with romance or attraction. Put plainly, they didn't want to see their kid brother drugged into unconsciousness, strapped down like a mental patient. Granted Barbara had seen this more often than Dick had, but it never got any easier.

They didn't want to be confronted with the awful reality of the Joker's final prank.

However, they didn't have a choice, and they could only hide out in a room for so long.

"Let's go," Barbara finally whispered, squaring her shoulders as she stood up and marched out the door. Dick followed her a few moments later, fantasizing about what he would've done to the sadistic clown if he'd had the chance.

It was a coping mechanism, the only one that would help him get through what he was about to do.

* * *

Bruce had his back to them, standing ramrod straight, eyes focused on Tim. He didn't turn or acknowledge their presence.

Before he could move any further into the darkened room, Barbara touched Dick's arm, her expression a silent plea. Dick nodded to show that he understood, but the silent warning had been unnecessary. This was bigger than any issues the three of them still needed to work out, bigger than anything really. This was about family.

He and Barbara entered together, separating as they approached Bruce. Dick stood at the taller man's right shoulder while Barbara flanked him on the left. Dick looked away as she whispered something indecipherable into Bruce's ear. Despite trying to avoid it, the younger man saw Bruce's stoned-faced expression twist into something that could've been gratitude. It could've been something else, too, but Dick refused to consider that possibility.

"The kid's tough," he said instead, staring at the sleeping form under the blankets. "He'll be fine."

Bruce glanced at him, nodded, then returned his gaze to the boy. He'd been in here for hours, and Dick marveled at his ability to stare at this shell of Tim Drake for so long and still remain composed. Bruce was stronger than both he and Barbara in that way.

Physically speaking, Tim was fine and there was no real reason for the three of them to keep vigil like this. That fact proved irrelevant to the Batclan however. When Alfred walked in a few minutes later with several dinner trays, he saw Dick and Barbara standing guard over Tim, Bruce in the middle between them. Barbara's hand had slipped into Bruce's, while Dick gripped his mentor's shoulder supportively. Soundlessly, Alfred deposited the food on a nearby dresser and left them to it, closing the door behind him.

* * *

The trip from Bludhaven to Gotham took roughly half the time it should have, mainly because Dick had violated every traffic law in the books. His motorcycle was tipped on its side in the middle of the driveway; he hadn't waited for it to come to a complete stop before abandoning it.

"Bruce!" he shouted as he sprinted down the stairs to the Cave, "How bad?"

"Calm down," his surrogate father replied, "Doing this won't help her."

Ignoring the billionaire, Dick sprinted to the area set aside for medical use, where Bruce currently stood. Barbara lay on one of the medical tables, a breathing mask covering her mouth and nose. As he got closer, Dick saw the long gash running horizontally across her forehead; the various IV's sending unknown substances into her body. Of most immediate concern were the machine monitoring her vitals, specifically the erratic sounds they were making.

"What the hell happened?"

"Head-on collision, she was thrown from the car."

"A car accident," Dick said incredulously. He'd known nothing of this, Alfred had only told him that Barbara had been seriously injured and to get here as soon as possible. "It's Barbara, there's no way she'd-"

"Under normal conditions she wouldn't. There were extenuating circumstances. The other driver was drunk, he was speeding-"

"She still would've been able to-"

"That's not all. There's fear gas n her system."

"Fear gas," Dick repeated. "As in Scarecrow?"

Bruce nodded.

"That's not possible, Crane's been locked up for years."

"I know that."

"Then how? She was with me, she couldn't have..." Dick trailed off, wondering how Bruce would react to what he'd just said.

If the older man cared that his ex and his adopted son were spending time together again, he didn't show it. "A few years ago Barbara took a direct hit of Crane's gas, knocked her out for quite awhile."

"I know," Dick replied. Though he hadn't been there, he'd heard about it after the fact from Tim and Alfred. "But she recovered. Plus that was years ago, so how could-?"

"Maybe she didn't recover as well as we thought. There were still trace amounts of the stuff in her bloodstream when she woke up that night.'

"But there's no way it could still be there now, that's impossible."

"Nothing's impossible. Crane must've changed his formula, found a way to make the effects go dormant for a time."

"You're saying she's relapsed? The fear toxin kicked in again and she freaked out and couldn't avoid the other car?"

"It's the most likely scenario. You said yourself that Crane is locked up, and even if he weren't there'd be no reason for him to come after Barbara Gordon."

"But why now? What caused it to-?"

"I don't know," the older man cut in. "But that's not our main concern right now. Her vitals are all over the place, she's locked in the same nightmare she was before and soon it'll be too much for her to handle."

"Then give her the antidote! I know you've got a supply of it around here somewhere."

"I have, but it's taking longer than it should to work. The structure of the gas isn't the same anymore, possibly because it's been in her system so long."

"Then…then sedate her. Bring her heart and breathing under control and wait for this to run its course." He was panicking now, throwing out any idea he could.

"She's already sedated, Dick. Whatever's in that gas is stronger than any tranquilizers I can give her." To prove his point, Bruce pointed his thumb in the direction of the machines, which clearly showed a body in distress.

"You're saying that if you can't bring her out of this, she'll die."

"Yes."

"And you don't know how to bring her out of it," Dick said slowly, dread creeping into his stomach.

"Not yet," Bruce replied. "But Dick," he continued in a much softer tone, "I will. I promise you that I will."

Dick nodded mutely. The hard edge of determination in Bruce's voice spoke louder than his actual words. "What…" he swallowed hard to keep his composure. "What do I do?"

"Stay with her," Bruce replied, "I'm going to keep working on an antidote. After receiving another slow nod, Bruce squeezed Dick shoulder once before heading in the opposite direction.

Left alone, Dick carefully took Barbara's hand into his, mindful of the IV. "You're not doing this," he stated in a low whisper. "It's not fair, you can't do this now. You hear me Babs? You're not doing this to me."

The irregular blip of the heart monitor was his only reply.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: **Yeah. I have no excuse, so I'm not giving one. Fortunately, the previous chapters aren't that long, so those of you who forgot this story (translation, all of you) shouldn't need too long to catch up. If anyone still cares about this long-neglected piece, please do shoot me a review. If nothing else, it allows you to verbally bash me for being such a terrible author and making you wait so terribly long.

* * *

"I had it under control!" Batgirl yelled, cape swirling in the wind as she turned her back on him.

"Not the way I saw it," Nightwing grumbled. Tucking away the grapple gun he'd used to ascend through the busted skylight, Dick jogged to catch up with her.

"Get your eyes checked," Barbara advised coolly, aiming her own grapple device at a nearby rooftop.

Scowling, Dick swatted her hand away, ignoring the glare he received. "You were reckless and sloppy and you would've gotten yourself killed if I hadn't stepped in."

"I saw him," Barbara countered darkly. "How many times do I have to tell you that I saw him?"

"I believe you, I do. You were just waiting for the gun to go off before you made your move. Crime fighting 101."

"You're sounding more like Bruce every night," she replied, raising her arm to perform the move he'd stopped earlier.

There was a time, long, long ago, that being compared to Bruce would serve as a compliment. That was before Batgirl, before Tim, before Dick recognized who Bruce Wayne truly was. So, words that would've brought pride not too long ago now served no other purpose than to make Dick's blood boil.

Irritated, he followed Barbara across the canyons of Gotham, joining her atop the roof of a dilapidated brownstone. Again, he ran to catch up. "Would you stop?"

"We'll get this done faster if we split up," she declared, still not looking at him. "How about you take east side and-"

"How about we stick together and get this done like we're supposed to?" Nightwing growled. They weren't separating. Tim had been alone when Joker and Harley made their move. Tim was still strapped to his bed at the Manor.

"You're going to follow Bruce's orders? That guy with the pipe hit you too hard?"

Considering that she'd nearly been shot three minutes earlier, Dick didn't see how Barbara had any right to talk. It was a routine drug bust, lots of thugs, lots of guns, but still routine. But Batgirl had crashed in with all fists and no finesse, too busy pummeling her opponents to notice the glint of metal in the corner. A well-placed Batarang was the only thing that kept her from taking a bullet to the head.

"_Instructions_, Barbara, Bruce's _instructions_."

"Is there a difference?"

"You tell me. You know him better than anyone now, don't you?"

The redhead spun on her heel, eyes narrowing beneath her cowl. "Mind your business."

"Watch yourself and I will. You're acting like this is your first night out."

"And you're acting like the arrogant little boy I met on that first night out. I'm not a rookie anymore."

"Then you're a better actress than I gave you credit for. Good job, Barbara."

"Code names in the field, _Nightwing. _I'm taking the shopping district, you can have the docks."

"Is it Christmas already?" he asked, stepping in front of her before she could make another jump. "We're not separating."

"We've got the comms," Barbara argued.

"Great, we're still not separating."

If it were possible, Barbara's eyes would've narrowed further. " Teamwork suddenly important to you? Did I miss something?"

Crossing his arms, Dick glared at his former girlfriend before turning on his heel. "You miss a lot of things, Batgirl. More than you think."

This time it was Barbara who chased _him _between the buildings of the city. Out of frustration, Dick half-heartedly tried to lose her, employing many of the tactics she'd been using all night. Still, he wasn't really trying, and even if he had been, Barbara would've kept up. Despite hating his guts at the moment, she would've kept up, if only to prove a point.

The two vigilantes put a damper on three robbery attempts and three muggings within the next half hour. They did this without speaking. Not to each other, not to the perps. It was different without the banter, the jabs at superstitious, cowardly criminals. He missed it, that small bit of relief amidst their dark activities. He missed it, but Dick had no illusions about the likelihood of getting that element back, at least not for more than a few minutes at a time It was hard to joke about anything when Tim was thin and pale and drugged to the gills, and Bruce was angry and tired and reaching his limit.

Bruce wasn't the only one. For almost a month, Dick had been splitting time between Gotham and Bludhaven, helping Barbara as much as he could, as much as she'd let him, with patrols of the city. More often than not, she declined his assistance, urging him to focus on his own town. More often than not, he ignored her and they spent the nights prowling the skyscrapers together. In other circumstances, that could've been good, great actually. However, these were not those circumstances. Stress and fear and whatever else was affecting everyone, more than they wanted to admit. Bruce was shut in with Tim and Leslie, devastated beyond description. He hardly bothered to comment when Barbara announced their intentions to sweep the city, except to order them to stick together. If Dick didn't know better, he'd say that his mentor had given up, at least when it came to Batman.

But Dick knew better than that. He _absolutely _knew better than that.

So while Bruce stayed with Tim, he and Barbara went out. They went out and did the hero thing and tried not to kill each other. Barbara accused him of being overprotective, treating her like an amateur. She said he didn't respect her, didn't see her as an equal. There were other fights too, petty arguments about everything and nothing, but the main issue was always the same. He thought he was better than her, thought she needed saving. It was stress and depression and fatigue on every possible level that, two nights ago, had caused Dick to argue that maybe he _was _better than her. Maybe years upon years of training and field experience gave him that title. Maybe she wouldn't be so irritated if it was Bruce watching her back, keeping her safe. And maybe if someone had been overprotective of Tim that night instead of leaving him by himself, maybe then none of this would be an issue.

They hadn't had anything close to a real conversation since then.

Dick regretted the words the instant they left his mouth, and he'd told Barbara that much. Told her again and again and again. Again and again and again she nodded, assured him that she knew, she understood. Thing was, she never looked at him while making those assurances, and she never stuck around long after making them.

Tonight, now, they were quiet again. It wasn't a comfortable quiet, but it was better than attacking each other. The city eventually mirrored them, growing uncommonly silent. No more sirens, no more screams, no more need to be out here. An hour into that silence, Dick spoke to her about heading in for the night. They shared a look and, for the first time in weeks, both knew that they were in complete agreement. Being at the Manor, roaming the empty halls filled with so much sadness, taking it in shifts to force Bruce to bed and to watch over Tim while the boy cried and laughed and screamed nonsensically…wasn't terribly appealing.

They kept up the patrol. Dick stopped a group of preteens from painting graffiti on the wall of his old high school. Barbara attempted to thwart a home invasion, only to realize that the owner was returning from a late night at the office and somehow managed to lock himself out. Barbara picked the lock and encouraged him to invest in a spare set of keys. Dick saw a couple of teenagers sitting on a curb, talking about drinking. Not drinking, just talking about drinking. After demanding to see identification and confirming that both boys were underage, he gave them a stern lecture on the merits of just saying no. This caused the boys to create a list of very unflattering nicknames for the young crimefighter. Finally, they came upon a malfunctioning light on a fairly dead patch of road. Barbara played crossing guard directing almost non-existent traffic for fifteen minutes before admitting defeat.

"We should probably head back," she muttered grudgingly.

They were on another rooftop, Barbara putting more space between them than was strictly necessary. Dick nodded once, without conviction. "We should."

"You could go back to your apartment," the redhead stated, after a moment of awkward silence.

"Yeah. You could go back to yours, too."

"Yeah."

Neither of them would be going to their respective apartments. It had nothing to do with the distance between Gotham and Bludhaven. It had nothing to do with Barbara's claim of a sink pipe that threatened to flood her place. Bad as it was at the Manor, alone would be worse. For both of them, alone would be so much worse.

Shrugging, Dick risked a tight half-smile. "Manor's got the big TV."

"And the satellite dish," Barbara agreed.

Dick nodded a second time. "Did people actually live before satellite?"

"Circus not have a satellite hook-up?"

"No, and I still don't know how I survived that much adversity."

Barbara returned the tight half-smile. They were both exhausted and angry and depressed, but she still smiled. It wasn't much, but it was something.

"You hungry?" Dick asked suddenly.

"Are you?"

"Always."

Barbara considered that. "I ate before we left."

"Hours ago. Granola is not food."

She considered that, too. "Who's buying?"

He thought about it. "Last one to the burger joint on Fifth?"

"The one we used to go to on the weekends?"

"Where else?".

"They tore it down."

"What?"

"A year ago. Now it's a store specializing in motivational magnets."

"What?"

"Fridge magnets with inspirational sayings."

"Seriously?"

"Sad, isn't it?"

"How does anything like that last in this city? And why didn't I know about it?"

"It doesn't. Being torn down to make room for a strip club. And you didn't know because you don't pay attention."

"I always pay attention."

"You didn't know about the magnets. How many time have we passed that shop?"

"I've had a lot on my mind," he replied darkly.

Grimacing, the female crimefighter stared at her boots. "Yeah," she softly acknowledged, "I suppose you have."

And just like that it was tense and awkward again. Mentally beating his head against the wall, Dick tried to catch her eyes. "I'm sorry."

"I know."

"Bar--Batgirl."

"I know," she reiterated, finally meeting his gaze.

"It's just, it's hard. You'd think it'd get easier seeing him like that but-"

"—it doesn't she finished." It wasn't easy to tie Tim down and stick him with needles every night, and it wasn't easy to see Bruce's reaction to that every night.

Nothing had ever been easy for them, but neither had anything been quite this impossible.

"There's a new burger joint on Tenth," Barbara offered.

Dick perked up slightly. "Any good?"

Barbara shrugged. "Want to find out?"

"I'm always up for some artery clogging."

"You up for paying?"

"Should I be?"

"It was your idea."

"Cop's salary. Flip a coin?"

The redhead grimaced. "Remember Two-Face."

The dark-haired man winced. "Sorry. Rock Paper Scissors?"

Barbara sighed, almost inaudibly. "That was Tim's method."

Dick Grayson ladies and gentlemen, batting a thousand tonight. "Foot in mouth. Want me to buy you a fridge magnet?"

That earned him a chuckle. "After dinner maybe."

He frowned. "We ever actually settle on who was buying?"

"Well, if you wanted to demonstrate your chivalry-"

"-I'd have a white horse instead of a grappling hook. Horse would be too messy, too much maintenance."

"I'm fine with racing for it."

"The horse?"

"The bill," she corrected.

"Deal. Tenth Street?"

"Tenth Street. On three then?"

Dick frowned, taking up position next to her. "No. You cheat. You always cheat."

"You're such a liar. And a sore loser."

"Three isn't three with you," he argued. "With you, three is one. You'll say one, then you'll jump off the roof."

"It was one time."

"It was six times."

"I'm hungry now. And I promise not to take a head start."

"You sure?"

"Positive."

"Okay," Dick agreed. "So three is actually going to be three?"

"Unless you'd prefer it to be some other number."

"Nope, not broke, don't fix it." He showed her a glimpse of white teeth. "One..."

"Two..." Barbara continued.

Rather than finishing his part of the sequence, Dick leapt off the roof ahead of her, laughing at her yells of consternation as he swung towards the burger shack.

* * *

"So," Barbara drawled fifteen minutes later. "Explain this to me. You cheat so you won't lose, then you lose anyway. And after all this losing, I end up paying."

Inclining his head, Dick bit into his cheeseburger, words muffled by the food. "I think you pretty much covered the main points."

Barbara threw an onion ring at him, scowling in annoyance when he dodged the projectile. The two were perched on yet another building, napkins and take-out bags littering the space around them.

"I left my wallet in my other cape," Nightwing explained.

"The cape you don't wear?"

"Exactly."

"Charming, Grayson, you really know how to show a girl a good time."

"Only a bat girl. Speaking of which, only code names in the field, remember?"

"I bought that extra meal so you could get your little toy. Don't push it."

"It's not a toy," he argued. "It's a candy dispenser. And it's collectible. You always carry cash in the utility belt?"

"No," Batgirl replied, picking up her strawberry malt and sucking nosily through the straw. "Sometimes I take the Bat-Card."

Nightwing gave her a deliciously blank look. "Bat-Card."

Barbara nodded earnestly. "Like a credit card. A really exclusive credit card."

"Bat-MasterCard?"

"Bat-Visa," she corrected.

"Right. And where on your belt do you keep this little stroke of genius?"

"Major stroke of genius. Right next to the Bat-Shark Repellant." She managed to keep it together all of two more seconds before laughing rather wickedly.

Dick chuckled as well, taking another bite of his sandwich. "Glad I left before you guys started stocking Bat-Bug Spray."

The redhead shrugged teasingly. "Always be prepared, right?"

"Or hang around with someone who is. Thanks for dinner, how about a movie?"

"Sorry, that was my last bit of cash, and the Bat-Card is maxed-out."

"Too many mall visits with Supergirl?"

Concealed by the cowl, Batgirl's eyes widened in surprise. "How'd you know about that?"

"Some of the Justice Leaguers are gossip hounds." He paused, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "You see how those guys reacted when Nightwing and Batgirl showed up?"

"The Justice League?"

"The employees at that restaurant. We could take a page out of Flash's book; make some serious money from endorsements."

Barbara snorted. "Please. I stopped a robbery at that place last week and they wouldn't even give me a discount. They promised a discount next time I came in."

Nightwing smirked in amusement. "Masked avenger, the ultimate in thankless jobs." His expression clouded again. "You ever meet all of them, the League?"

"All no, some yes. Headquarters has a great cappuccino machine."

Dick stared at her in disbelief. "You've been to League headquarters?"

"Once or twice," she replied. "For the Christmas parties. Jealous?"

The former Boy Wonder grunted indignantly. "Not on your life."

"I heard they're installing a pool soon. For Aquaman."

"We're going to have quiet time now."

Grinning, Batgirl reached over him, snagging his chocolate shake. "Fine, I'll have snack time while you have quiet time."

"That is my drink," he said stonily.

"Paid for with my money," she countered. "Anyway, I'm thirsty and this isn't helping," she continued, gesturing towards her own empty cup.

"You could've asked."

"Would you have said yes?"

"No."

"Then why would I ask?"

They engaged in a short staring contest before simultaneously breaking into quiet laughter. Things weren't okay, but there could only be so much hurt and anger and tension before a bit of light snuck its way in. This, too was how it had been since Dick arrived in Gotham. Moments of peace and calm and maybe a little happiness, followed by more hurt and anger and tension.

"You were right," Barbara declared softly, after both of them had gotten it together.

"Was I?"

"The warehouse, guy with the gun, I didn't see him."

"I know," Dick acknowledged.

Barbara shot him an annoyed glare. "Thanks for not rubbing it in."

"You would know all about that Miss They're-Putting-In-A-Pool-Soon."

"Installing," Barbara corrected, unable to keep the angry look going. "For Aquaman."

"Right," Dick nodded. "For Aquaman. You ever meet him?"

"Once, you're not missing anything."

"Not a very sociable guy?"

"Understatement." Breathing deeply, Barbara forced herself to meet Dick's eyes. "Thanks, for the warehouse."

Shaking his head, Dick waved away her gratitude. "Back-up, that's my job."

"I've just…I've been tired lately. And reckless, and sloppy, like you said."

"And I've been tired and overbearing and acting like a jerk."

"No arguments here."

"Thanks. And sorry. It's not…even now it's hard for me to think of you as…"

"Batgirl?"

"Batgirl," he confirmed softly.

They were silent for a few moments, a slight breeze carrying the remnants of their dinner to the other side of the roof. Then, tentatively, Barbara spoke up. "I should've told you about Bruce and me."

"Forget it."

"We can't keep doing this. This…whatever we're doing is affecting our work."

"Compromising the mission?" he ventured coolly, recalling one of Bruce's favorite sayings.

"Yeah, but it's not just that. Can we please-"

"I thought we agreed to handle the big problems first."

"We did. Except the big problem is still back at the house taking his anti-psychotics, and we haven't handled anything."

Dick said nothing, staring straight ahead.

"I didn't do this to hurt you-"

"Barbara," he interrupted. "Your business is your business. I don't want to know," he finished tersely.

"So it doesn't bother you?" she asked skeptically.

"Is that what I said?" he snapped, words out before he had time to edit them. Shutting his eyes, Dick forced his voice back to something approaching normal. "What am I supposed to say, Babs, that I'd prefer it if you went out with Killer Croc?"

"You're disgusting."

"Guilty. But whatever else he is, Bruce is my adopted father. You can at least understand the ick factor that comes with seeing you together."

"Yeah," Barbara admitted reluctantly. "But we're all adults, Dick, its not-"

"That's not the point, Barbara," he argued, more frustrated than angry. "How would you feel if I started courting the Commissoner?"

In a night full of awkward pauses, this one easily took home the gold. Trying to ignore the blush creeping over him, Dick nervously studied Barbara's face. Her features were blank, impossible to read, making him think that she really had been spending too much time with Bruce.

"Okay," she muttered slowly. "So, how about we never talk about that again?"

"Good plan," he agreed, nodding fervently. "I was just trying to make a point you know, I wasn't-"

Wincing, the female crimefighter held up her hand. "And now we're talking about it again."

"Sorry. If you want, I'll jump off the roof without my grappling hook."

"Is that supposed to make up for it?"

"Somewhat. Mostly it'd make me feel better."

"Can I have your bike afterwards?"

"Nice, Barbara."

The redhead shrugged. "I'm just setting the terms."

"You can have the old one; I'll give the new one away."

"To whom?"

"Anyone other than you?"

"Nice, Grayson."

"What? Orphans need motorcycles too. I was an orphan and I needed a motorcycle."

"We're off-topic, you do know that?"

Nightwing mustered a rueful half-smile. "Yeah. We're better when we're off-topic."

"True," Batgirl acknowledged with a smile of her own.

Watching her, Dick couldn't help but wonder if Bruce did that, if the man notorious for his lack of a funny bone ever made Barbara laugh. They'd certainly looked happy enough in that newspaper photo… But no, that way lay trouble, and more trouble was _not _what they needed. "You ever miss it?" he blurted suddenly.

"It?"

"Us," Dick explained, studying the color of his boots. "This. Talking."

Sighing, Barbara took interest in a fry that had escaped both of their mouths and landed on the roof. "I've missed that ever since you left."

He didn't want to ask, but he had to. "First time, after I hit Bruce, or second time, after New Year's?"

Abandoning her study of the fry, Barbara met his eyes again. "Take a guess," she replied, so softly that Dick wondered if she'd even said anything. Her next words were pitched more normally. "Dick, you came back the first time, and you were so bitter. All I ever got from you was a cold shoulder."

"I know," Dick admitted, thinking of all the times she'd joked and hinted and flirted, all the times he'd brushed her off. "I was angry."

"Was?"

"Am. It's not just you being out here, it's not just me worrying what'll happen if…and it's not just Bruce either."

"Then what is it? Besides Bruce and Tim and Joker and this," she pressed, indicating her costume, "what else is there?'

Whatever he may have said was cut off by static from his transceiver. Tucked into the lining of her mask, Barbara's unit activated as well. Somewhere between relief and frustration, Dick addressed the voice on the other end. "What's up?"

"Begging your pardon sir, but I must insist that you return immediately."

The vigilantes shared twin looks of concern. Alfred's voice held an odd mixture of trepidation and excitement that neither of them knew how to interpret. "What's going on, Alfred?" Barbara asked.

Another hiss of static before a new voice came on, this one decidedly cooler. "Tim's awake."

Nightwing twitched uncomfortably. He couldn't remember the last time Bruce ventured into the cave, and hearing the older man's voice after the conversation they'd just had… He shot Barbara an appreciative look. The comm sets she'd helped redesign needed to be turned on from one end or the other, which meant that their discussion hadn't been broadcast through the Cave.

Barbara climbed to her feet, brimming with barely suppressed hope "Awake as in…"

"_Tim's _awake," Bruce reiterated, emphasizing the boy's name. "Not that _thing _Joker created."

Twin looks of concern became twin looks of joy. "That mean Leslie's treatments are starting to work?" Dick asked, excitement rolling off him as he jumped to a standing position.

"It would seem. He's coherent now; I don't know how long he'll stay that way. Get back here."

* * *

Gently clasping Barbara's left hand in his right, Dick willed himself to calm down. Agitated, he shifted his gaze from the woman in front of him to the nearby trophy cases. He examined Barbara's costume, abandoned so recently when she finally parted ways with Bruce. Tim's suit brought back too many memories, and Dick didn't linger on that one. The Nightwing suit was on display as well. Dick had been all ready to go for hours now. The waiting had become too much, and he'd been ready to suit up, head out, and pound Jonathan Crane into hamburger until the man gave them an antidote. He'd storm into Arkham, force the cell open, and come back with a cure, whatever it took.

As it turned out, none of that had been necessary. Bruce found a treatment. Found or created, Dick wasn't sure which. His attention had drifted as soon as Bruce promised that Babs would pull through. After a quick injection of whatever-it-was, Barbara's heart had gradually slowed, her vitals coming back under control. Sleeping now as the drug flowed through her system, Barbara was no longer in danger of dying from fear.

Anti-climactic really. Dick would've liked to beat up on Scarecrow or some of his thugs, if only to give himself something to do. A small part of him hated the fact that Bruce had saved the day again while he, Dick, did nothing more useful than grip Barbara's hand for dear life and threaten to make her regret it if she decided to die on him. Annoyed, Dick pushed away those childish thoughts. Barbara was safe now, that was all that mattered. That, and getting her to open her eyes before he went out of his mind.

Footsteps echoing off cavernous walls caught Dick's attention, and he half-turned as Bruce came downstairs with a plateful of sandwiches. "Alfred let you get away with that?"

"Don't think he was happy about it. I told him I'd make you eat," Bruce replied, setting the food on a nearby table.

"Not hungry," Dick muttered, still clasping Barbara's fingers. "Besides, who's going to make you eat?"

"I'm okay," he said shortly, checking one of the machines Barbara was hooked to.

"Well so am I."

Pausing in his task, the older man caught his adopted son's gaze. "Eat something."

It wasn't the icy voice of a field commander, the voice Dick had grown so used to. Firm but kind, it reminded Dick of someone else. The mentor who'd taken him in, the man he'd loved and respected for so long. The free hand that had been fisting into his jeans moved upward, and Dick took a small bite of the BLT.

Satisfied, the billionaire continued to check over their patient. His eyes clouded with some impossible-to-read emotion every time he looked at Barbara. Dick decided that he really didn't want to know. "So…what? Crane's gas was just sitting there dormant all this time?"

"As far as I can tell. We'll need to run tests when she wakes up." Pressing his fingers to his temple, Bruce added another detail. "I doubt they'll be permanent damage, but we'll need to make sure."

"Permanent…?"

"The toxin affected her mind; we can't know how much until she comes around."

"But you said-

"She'll be okay. One way or another, we'll make sure of that."

For sanity's sake, Dick chose to believe him. Insane really, that Crane's madness could threaten Barbara's life years after the fact, that he could wreak this much havoc from behind Arkham's walls. "What do you think triggered it?"

"Hopefully the tests will help answer that." Checking the readout from Barbara's heart monitor, Bruce looked at Dick from the corner of his eye. "She was coming from your place."

It wasn't a question. The car wrecked midway between Bludhaven and Gotham. Why else would Barbara be there if not to see him? Irritated by a sense of being caught at something, Dick searched for any hint of accusation in Bruce's statement. Nothing, like usual. Damn Bruce and his poker face. "We were having dinner," the younger man replied, hoping he didn't sound too defensive.

Nodding minutely, Bruce continued to stand over the redhead, watching her with guarded eyes. "Good. It's good that you two are patching things up."

Struggling to keep his jaw off the floor, Dick wondered how his former mentor could even mention patching things up with _anyone_, never mind doing so with a straight face. Bruce kept talking, stopping the other man from delving too far into the meaning of those words

"You need to understand something, Dick I brought you into this life because it was the only thing I knew. That was my mistake. You were too young, and I should've realized that you weren't ready to make that choice, not with any kind of perspective." As he said that, Bruce's eyes darted to the Robin suit on display, its bright colors a contrast to everything else here.

For his part, Dick had simply forgotten how his vocal chords worked. Bruce Wayne, always right in every circumstance, was making an apology. Distantly, Dick wondered where this was coming from. Out of left field didn't begin to cover it. Had Barbara's leaving flicked a switch somewhere in his head? Besides Alfred, Bruce was alone now. Had that, combined with the start of a new year and the shock of what happened to Babs, prompted some soul-searching on his part. Again, Dick was unable to ruminate on this for very long. Bruce was still speaking, returning his focus to Barbara.

"She was so eager, so impulsive. Naïve. She had me on a pedestal and I knew that. So maybe she wasn't ready either. But Dick, she was an adult. She saw what we were up against. She was an adult who made a choice. If I hadn't agreed to work with her, she would've continued being Batgirl on her own, and she would've died because of it. I'm not saying it was the right decision, but it wasn't just mine. I didn't force this life on any of you, and I won't be responsible for every bad thing that's happened in your lives since then."

Bruce hadn't taken his eyes off Barbara throughout that entire speech. If his other declarations had come out of nowhere, this one seemed to come from an alternate dimension. Something wasn't right, something other than Bruce speaking more to him in the last few minutes than he had in the last few years. "You think I blame you?"

"It'd fit with your usual pattern."

"I don't," Dick argued, surprised to find that he meant it. "This is Scarecrow, no one else." Bruce said nothing. He'd crossed to Barbara's other side, and there was an odd twitchiness in his hand. Scrutinizing the older man, Dick realized what the problem was. Bruce wanted to touch her, but wouldn't allow that to happen.

"Bruce," Dick began, unsure where to start or what he even meant to say. It turned out to be a moot point. A slight change in the monitor patterns along with a barely audible whimper captured both men's attention, effectively ending their conversation.

"Bruce?" Dick repeated, unnerved by the fear in his voice.

"It's all right," he replied. Again, he sounded like the man of days gone by, the man who'd comforted Dick after his parent's deaths. "She's waking up."


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: **First off, I can't thank you guys enough for all your words of encouragement. After leaving you high and dry for such a long time, I don't deserve much of anything except a sound thrashing on the head, but you guys kept your bats and golf clubs away. You can't imagine how thrilled I was to discover that people still cared about this story, despite the unforgivable lack in updates. I meant to make this chapter long, as a thank you for all that support, but I didn't mean to make it quite _this _long. Hopefully, too much is better than too little.

Some of the mainstream Batman comics stuff found its way in here because…mostly because I was reading mainstream Batman comics. Also, there are spoilers for the _Batman: Subzero _movie. As if there's anyone reading this story who hasn't seen that film. Anyway, I hope the length of this chapter is good, not bad, I hope you guys enjoy reading it, and I _really _hope you drop me a review before you head out.

* * *

Scanning the ballroom of Gotham's finest hotel, Dick straightened his tie as he moved though the crowd. Despite the impressive number of people surrounding him, Dick spotted Barbara right away. Idly, he recalled a years-old conversation in which Babs toyed with the idea of dying her hair. Red was too noticeable, she'd said, too much chance of someone connecting Batgirl with Commissioner Gordon's daughter. Dick would hear none of it. In hindsight, the crimefighter suspected that he'd taken the whole thing a bit too seriously. He'd been rather adamant in his defense of her auburn locks, prompting a look of perplexed amusement from Barbara. Really though, red hair was her trademark, and somebody had to make sure that trademark stayed intact. That, and the color was a great complement to her eyes.

Giving thanks for whichever gene was responsible for her distinctive red locks, Dick navigated through the swarm of well-dressed rich people, eventually making it to the dance floor. Barbara was doing her best not to wince as her partner repeatedly confused her toes for the floor. Smirking, Dick quickly but carefully navigated around several couples. Barbara glanced up just as he was about to reach her, and Dick smirked again. Her expression was comically grateful.

"Mind if I cut in?" Dick asked, throwing Babs a wink.

Her partner was a balding man who'd soon be leaving middle age behind. As he got a look at the guy, Dick became even happier that he'd stepped in. "Sorry to interrupt, Mr. Turner," he apologized, sounding only mildly apologetic.

"That's quite all right," the older man responded, though he didn't sound like it was quite all right. "Mr…?"

"Mr. Turner," said Barbara, taking the opportunity to pull herself out of his arms. "You remember Dick Grayson?"

Blinking, Turner shook his head as if to clear it. "Dick! Is that you? I…I didn't know you were back in town."

"You know, I kept quiet about it just for you, sir. Weeks now, all I could think of was the look on your face when the black sheep carnival kid made his grand reappearance."

"Dick!" Barbara exclaimed.

"Relax, Barbara. Those were Mr. Turner's words, not mine. Good times, weren't they sir?"

Fidgeting, Turner ran a hand over his receding hair. "Yes well, all in good fun of course. Surely you didn't think-"

"Of course not. Fundraiser for education, lots of grape juice and white wine, people say things they don't mean."

"Yes well—no! What I mean to say-"

"Don't worry, sir. You've made yourself perfectly clear. Listen, I hate to do this, but Barbara here came out on the losing end of a bet, and I've got to grab a dance before she pulls the fire alarm and makes a break for it. If you'll excuse us."

Not waiting for a reply, Dick led Barbara to the other side of the floor, laughing at her groan of relief.

"Thank God!" she exclaimed, pitching her voice to a low whisper. "I can't feel my toes. He is the most arrogant, egotistical-"

"Barbara," he interrupted, finding a semi-empty space on the dance floor. "Don't say things you don't mean. Remember what we do at night?"

Rolling her eyes, Barbara conceded the point, not objecting when he put his arm around her waist and began a slow waltz. "Okay," she said in that same low whisper, "so he's not as arrogant and egotistical as Penguin or Riddler. He's still the most conceited, self-centered idiot I've ever met who didn't have verifiable psychiatric problems."

"The key word there is 'verifiable.' And yeah, he's a jerk."

"He really say all those things about you?"

"In his defense, Bruce wasn't there to hear him, and I wasn't supposed to be there either."

"God," the redhead repeated in disgust. "How'd you deal with these people for so long?"

"Easy. I stayed in my room, stayed in the coatroom, or stayed by the food table." It was true. The only time he'd ever enjoyed these high society functions was when Barbara showed up.

Mouth quirking, he examined the elegant black dress she'd chosen for tonight, knowing full-well the mistake he was making. It was a nice dress though. And she'd done something extra with her makeup too.

"Are you ogling me, Grayson?"

No, just examining. The ogling had come earlier, while her back was turned. "No, I was ogling that nice spread of food on that nice table behind you. Not my fault you went and blocked the view."

"You're sweet," Barbara deadpanned. "At least now I know what brought you here."

"Got tired of being shot at. Then I remembered where you were, and I figured a couple hours with these vultures might be slightly less painful than a bullet to the shoulder."

"Someone shot at you?"

He shrugged. "A lot of people shoot at me during gang fights, no big deal."

"You could've asked for backup."

"Looks to me like you needed more help than I did. That's why they encourage you to bring someone, so the other person can rescue you when you get sick of hearing about yachts and nose jobs and Veronica Vreeland's new fiancé."

"Too late. Already heard about Veronica's new fiancé. Bought her a yacht as an engagement present. She doesn't get the new nose until her birthday."

"See, that's why you need backup tonight."

"Ah, so you dusted off your tux for me."

"Technically, Alfred dusted off my tux. And technically, I was hungry and I wanted some of those mini éclairs."

" How could I forget the food angle?" Barbara chuckled, and Dick couldn't help but notice how forced it was. Both of them had their game faces on, but neither was in the mood for this. Dick chalked it up to taking one for the team. Or for Bruce. The older man's apathy towards Batman had spilled over into Bruce Wayne's life. The gathering tonight was full of socialites and company investors, all wondering why Gotham's favorite son hadn't been seen in weeks. Barbara was here only to keep up the ruse and allay suspicion. Dick was here for exactly the reasons he'd given Barbara. Gotham's rich and famous tended towards the insufferable side, and he felt obligated to help the redhead deal with them. And, he did like those éclairs.

"Thanks for the save. In addition to the arrogance, that guy is hands-down the worst dancer ever to walk the earth."

"Or waltz it," Dick added. Her anger served as his amusement.

"I think he might've had a third left foot hidden somewhere, judging by how often he stepped on me." Sighing in annoyance, Barbara ended her rant and gazed around in surprise. It seemed that allowing herself into Dick's embrace had been entirely unconscious. "We're actually dancing."

"Good job, detective, great deductive reasoning."

"Shut up, Shortpants."

"Excuse me?"

"Oh yeah, I know all about the first design of the Robin suit. Including the indecently-short pants. And the pixie boots."

Dick swore under his breath. "When we get home, Alfred is in so much trouble."

Barbara laughed derisively. "Like you could ever yell at Alfred."

"I could if I wanted," Dick argued, sounding very much like a kindergarten student.

"No you couldn't."

"No," Dick agreed after a moment's hesitation, "I couldn't. But he's not going to be folding my clothes anymore. I'll be rumpled and wrinkled, and Alfred will just have to deal with it."

"Right. Taking revenge on Alfred by doing your own laundry. Great plan you've got there, Shortpants."

"Just keep going. Mr. Three Left Feet is looking awfully eager over there."

"Sorry. I'd say you're my hero, but that'd be bad."

"You have my permission to say it anyway."

"I'll get right on that then."

"Oh no," Dick muttered, his grip on Barbara's hands tightening convulsively. "We have to go," he said urgently, attempting to pull her off the floor with him. The music had stopped for now, leaving couples to disperse throughout the room. This made it much more difficult to hide in the crowd.

"Why?" Barbara asked, resisting his efforts. Then her eyes widened as they scanned all the exits. "Are there robbers?"

Inwardly, Dick chuckled. He must've sounded a bit too grave if Barbara's mind automatically jumped to robbers and ransom demands. Then again, years of crimefighting made one more apt to go for worse-case scenarios.

"Dammit," he hissed, seeing that quiet escape was no longer an option. "You met Mrs. Farnsworth yet?"

"Who?"

"All right. Whatever she says, don't let it get to you. Just smile and nod."

"Tell me you didn't just tell me to smile and nod," Barbara growled.

"Whatever she says," Dick repeated, "just remember that she's a miserable old woman who's going to die soon."

The redhead went from angry to stricken. "That's horrible."

"Say that in five minutes and I'll apologize," Dick replied, just as an aging woman in a tent-like dress made her presence known. "Richard!" she declared in an overly-sweet voice. "I didn't know you were coming tonight."

"Mrs. Farnsworth," Dick greeted rather stiffly. "Listen, I'd love to catch up, but Barbara and I-"

"Barbara!" she gushed. "So glad to finally meet you."

Glancing at Dick, the redhead smiled in a way that did little to hide her bewilderment. "Mrs. Farnsworth, I presume?"

"Call me Agnes. I've heard so much about you."

"Really?" Barbara asked. "From Bruce?"

"I'm afraid not. But trust me; you're the hot topic of our little gathering."

"That's…good to hear."

"Yes. Not that we aren't missing Mr. Wayne. He's made himself rather scarce, hasn't he?"

"Please don't take that personally," Barbara replied. Dick could tell she'd been reciting the same line all night. "Tim's been sick, and Bruce-"

"Oh of course, the new boy. I'm starting to think our Mr. Wayne collects them. I hope it's nothing serious?"

"Flu," Dick lied. "Bad case of the flu. He'll be back on his feet in no time." The flash of sadness across Barbara's face was almost unnoticeable.

"Poor dear. But look at you, Richard. Your hair's gotten so long."

Trying not to focus on how Tim would like being called a 'poor dear,' Dick smiled in what he hoped was a charming fashion. "Delayed act of teenage rebellion."

The older woman's chuckle was uncommonly irritating. "Of course. You know Barbara, now that I think about it, I remember seeing you at our little soirees before. You and Richard used to make quite the couple."

"Mrs. Farnsworth," Dick began.

"Agnes, dear, Agnes." Her next words were directed at Barbara. "In fact, the way you two were dancing over there…" The thought was left hanging, but the suggestion was clear enough.

"It's not like that," Barbara refuted, shaking her head a bit too emphatically for Dick's self-esteem. "Dick was just saving me from some bad company."

"Yeah," Dick agreed. "Until a few minutes ago, I was doing a pretty good job of it." He'd violated his own directive of polite supplication, but he didn't care. Mrs. Farnsworth was right below Mr. Turner on his favorite people list.

If she realized she'd been insulated, Agnes didn't show it. "Well, young love and all that. I suppose there's no point keeping the boy with the trust fund when you can have the man with the checkbook."

Agnes giggled, Barbara gaped, Dick glared. With effort, he contorted his face into a pained half-smile, noting how quickly Barbara masked the sting of what they'd just heard.

"Not that there's anything wrong with trading up. And honestly, the age difference isn't as terribly large as some people say."

"Some people?" Barbara repeated.

"Oh you know, some of that 'bad company' Richard here was trying to fend off. I find it ridiculous myself. One of their own spends time with a pretty young woman…but like said, the whole thing's just ridiculous to me."

"Glad to hear that, Mrs. Farnsworth. Speaking of age, which birthday will you be celebrating next?"

The older woman fluttered her hands nervously, clicking her tongue. "Come now, Richard, it's not polite to ask a lady her age."

Swallowing a question about what qualities constituted a lady, Dick bowed his head. "They never mentioned that back in the circus, sometimes I forget. I'm actually more curious about _Mr. _Farnsworth."

"Edmund? What about him?"

"I'm surprised he's not here tonight, that's all."

"Well, I'm afraid poor Timothy isn't the only one under the weather."

She was getting flustered. Dick was getting happy. "Hazards of old age, huh? Would you believe how much I've forgotten about Edmund? I feel terrible, but I can't seem to remember whether he was twenty or thirty years older then you."

Barbara shot him a look, covering a laugh with a cough. Her fingers pressed hard against his spine, but Dick ignored that. "By the way, how's your son? He finished with school yet? You'd like him, Barbara; he's right around our age. What was he studying again, Agnes?"

The wealthy socialite didn't look nearly as pleased as she had a few minutes ago. "Bradley is still pursuing his education."

Dick nodded in understanding. "Right. Getting waitlisted for so many schools had to be time consuming. Barbara finished a few years ago, computer science degree."

"Lovely," the older woman declared, a distinct edge to her voice. "The Commissioner must be proud of you."

"Not that you shouldn't be proud of Brad," Dick added before Barbara could respond. "I saw his name in the paper last week. What was that for again?"

Barbara did the cough/laugh thing, but she didn't hurt him this time. Everyone in the discussion knew that Mrs. Farnsworth's son had been arrested on drug charges. It was a small news item, still big enough to serve Dick's purposes. Mumbling something about needing a drink, the woman disappeared. Her goodbye wasn't nearly as cordial as her greeting had been.

"That was subtle. What happened to smile and nod?"

Smile and nod was before that vapid, money-crazed gold-digger had implied that _Babs _was a vapid, money-crazed gold-digger. "I changed tactics. You can't be subtle with someone who can't _spell _subtle."

Barbara considered him, the hint of a smile gracing her lips. "Did you just defend my honor?"

"I just had a conversation," Dick replied, shaking his head in the negative. Honestly though, it was one thing for _him _to comment on Bruce and Barbara's situation. It was quite another for Agnes Farnsworth or anyone else to do the same. Things were tough enough without needing to deal with bored gossip-mongers who drank too much wine and ate too much caviar.

"I see," Barbara drawled. "Thanks for having your conversation then."

"That's me, Mr. Sociable."

"Yeah, that's about right," Barbara snorted. "But seriously, we're here to look normal and kiss up to Bruce's friends."

"One, Bruce doesn't have friends. Two, you can do whatever you want, I'm here for the food."

"You were pretty knowledgeable back there. It was a nice change."

"All that tennis gave you one hell of a backhand. Thank Alfred for the knowledge part. He forces me to stay up to date on the sordid personal lives of Gotham's rich and famous. Supposed to be helpful during dinner conversation."

Barbara nodded. "Alfred knows all. Do me a favor though, don't worry about me. I survived your attempts at home-cooked meals; I can survive a little gossip."

Dick wanted to say that he always worried about her, that it wasn't something that could be turned on and off. Instead he said, "The magazine said you girls liked it when us men-folk cooked for you."

"We do in theory. You personally, I think you should stick to hunting and gathering at the grocery store."

"But that's Alfred's job."

Barbara shrugged. "Do it for him. It can be part of your master scheme of getting even by completing your own chores. Shortpants."

Shaking his head, Dick watched the redhead move away from him, heading towards the far corner of the room. "You ditching me?"

"Mingling. Behave yourself for an hour so we can get out of here without wrecking Bruce's family name."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Barbara. What happens when I get bored?"

"You can always get me a drink."

Vowing that this was the last time he'd do anything noble on Barbara's behalf, Dick shook his head and went to hide behind the foods table.

* * *

For forty minutes he smiled, nodded, and chatted about nothing with people he had no interest in speaking to. Carrying his end of these discussions was easy, as long as he kept things brief and moved on to the next CEO or political golden boy. Unoccupied, Dick found his mind wandering in directions he didn't necessarily like.

Somehow, he hadn't expected anyone to remember that he and Babs used to frequent these things together. A lifetime ago, he'd danced with Barbara at so-and-so's mansion. A lifetime ago, he and Barbara were actually getting serious, and he'd started to entertain vague notions of a future.

Giving himself a mental shake, Dick gracefully bowed out of a discussion of stock prices, searching the sea of black ties for a flash of red. Divide and conquer had seemed a good strategy forty minutes ago, allowing them to talk with all the necessary players as quickly as possible and hasten their escape. Still, Dick had tried to keep the redhead in his sights, lest she require another gallant act of heroism. Or another glass of wine. After circling the room twice without seeing her, Dick couldn't help but worry.

Despite her admittedly stellar performance tonight, with him as well as the room at large, he knew that Barbara wasn't doing well. A week ago, Tim Drake had rejoined the land of the living. Without warning, he'd come back to himself long enough to crush Bruce in a hug and apologize over and over for things that weren't his fault. The boy had been sane, but panicked, overwhelmed with emotion. Bruce and Alfred did their best to calm him, and for a few moments it had worked. Then Tim realized that Barbara wasn't there. Hysterics took hold again, despite Bruce's assurances that Barbara was fine and Dick was home too, and they'd be back right away.. Eventually, the boy calmed enough for Alfred and Bruce to run down to the Cave.

Of course, Dick received all this information secondhand. By the time he and Barbara got there, Tim was gone again. By tacit agreement, they didn't drag out the patrols anymore. Being at the house was a nightmare, but it wasn't worse than missing Tim's first moment of lucidity in what felt like eons.

So no, Barbara wasn't doing well, and neither was he. The banter tonight was relaxing, familiar, but—for Dick at least—it was something of an act. The same one he'd been doing for weeks. Bruce couldn't be bothered with the demands of everyday life, but Dick didn't have that luxury, and neither did Barbara. Someone had to keep Gotham from collapsing in on itself, keep the criminals in check. So maybe Dick had flirted with her tonight, but it didn't mean anything. It did not and could not mean anything. The first time he saw Tim, Dick had fallen apart and forced Barbara to pick up the pieces. He wouldn't do that again, he'd tough it out and keeping it together. Even if he used semi-flirting with Barbara as a means of keeping it together. Unfortunately, semi-flirting with Barbara required Barbara's presence, and she was no longer inside the posh ballroom.

He found her ten minutes later, standing in a patio area outside the hotel. The pool in front of her was surrounding by tables and chairs, all empty now that daylight was gone. As he approached, Dick noticed that Barbara's shoulders were shaking. Clearing his throat, Dick made no move to get closer. "You ran out on me," he said in a carefully neutral voice.

Babs made a noise in the back of her throat, bringing her hand to her face. "Hardly."

"Says you."

"I won't be responsible for your separation anxiety," she replied teasingly.

Confident that she'd gotten herself under control, that she wouldn't bite his head off for approaching, Dick went to stand next to her, keeping his eyes locked on blue pool water. "Want to talk about it?"

"Your separation anxiety?"

The former acrobat made a face. "You think I won't throw you in this pool?"

"I think your witty comebacks are losing their wit."

"That was a threat, not a comeback." Babs didn't argue, and for a moment they were silent. "What are you thinking about?" Dick asked, all hints of laughter disappearing from his voice.

Throwing him a look from the corner of her eye, Barbara quickly refocused on that which was right in front of her. "You first."

Dick shrugged. "I'm thinking about figuring out what you're thinking about."

Another noise from the back of Barbara's throat. "Okay, tell me something else you thought of tonight. First thing that pops into your head."

Offering a sidelong glance, Dick complied. "Mr. Freeze."

Eyebrows climbing to her hairline, Barbara didn't hide her confusion. "Run that by me again?"

Sighing, Dick decided that if he wanted answers from her, he needed to set the example. "Farnsworth talked about when we used to see each other at places like this. Place like this was where I asked you to come to the coast with me. You said yes, but we didn't go because Freeze kidnapped you." His tone was conversational, but the memory of that night was still painful.

Crossing her arms, Barbara thought about the explanation. "You know what the worst part about that was?"

He guessed it would be the part where she'd almost lost her organs, but didn't say as much. "Which part?"

"Gave me a lifelong fear of polar bears."

Snorting, Dick gave thanks that he hadn't been drinking anything just then. "Can't say I blame you." Another silence, heavy with things that couldn't be said. "Barbara?"

"Hmm?"

"You ever wonder what would've happened if we'd made that trip to the coast?"

Chuckling sardonically, Barbara replied, "No. Worst-case scenario, we would've gotten to Rockport, then Bruce would've paged you, forcing you to come up with some lousy reason for going back to Gotham before we'd even unpacked."

Grimacing, Dick voiced his next inquiry with obvious hesitation. "Best-case scenario?"

Barbara thought about it. "I guess they're mostly the same."

"That's depressing."

"Which probably means it's accurate, too." Sighing, the redhead stared at him with a kind of resigned sadness. "I really thought Freeze would get better after they cured his wife."

Dick nodded. He'd thought the same thing, before Victor stormed into Wayne Manor and froze Alfred half to death. "We did everything we could for him, more than everything."

"For all the good it did."

Dick frowned. Bitter and brooding was his M.O, not Barbara's. "Your turn. What's on your mind?"

"You really need to know?" Barbara asked softly.

No, he didn't really need that. "Tim's improving, last week proved that."

"How many times did we think Two-Face was improving?"

"You know that's not the same thing."

Barbara shook her head, a single tear running down her face. "I don't know anything anymore, Dick. I thought I did, I thought I knew how this worked. Now Tim's the way he is, Bruce isn't much better, and I'm sipping champagne and listening to wedding announcements, pretending that any of it matters. Pretending that any of this matters," she said, gesturing at the building behind them.

"Barbara-"

"I wait all this time for something to change, _something _that tells me Tim's still there, then I'm not even around when he wakes up."

"Barbara-"

"He woke up and he was terrified, and I wasn't there."

"Barbara," he repeated, dreading where this would lead.

"How do you think he felt when Joker and Harley were torturing him? I wasn't with him then, either."

"Stop it," he ordered sharply, knowing this was partially his fault. He'd implied more than once, in moments of weakness and frustration, that Babs and Bruce bore some responsibility for what happened. It figured that those remarks would be the few out of his mouth that Babs took to heart.

The redhead was crying now, silent spasms wracking her trim body. "Listen," she said thickly. "Can we skip the hope-giving speeches tonight? I know that's what you're going to do, I know that's what we've been doing, but let's give ourselves a break. It took this long to get him sane for ten minutes. You know how long it'll be before anything significant happens? I don't know how long I can keep going like this; keep waiting for ten minutes when he's not trying to hurt us or himself."

Her breath was harsh and uneven as Barbara fought for control. Stomach clenching, Dick reached for her, feeling something in him break when she pulled away. Helpless, he watched her struggle, narrowing his eyes when it finally hit him. "Babs."

No response.

"Barbara," he stated firmly. "What else is there?"

Because he knew there was something else, knew by the way she wouldn't hold his gaze for more than a second. A few quiet sobs later, his suspicion was confirmed. "You can't stay here."

Dick shook his head, utterly confused. "What?"

"I know you're exhausted, trying to keep Bludhaven and Gotham under control."

"What's your point?" he asked, not unkindly. "I'm no more tired than anyone else."

"No, but you have responsibilities that we don't."

"What do you-?"

"Your boss at the police department called today. She can't cut you any more slack with your hours."

Precisely the reason he'd been avoiding his boss whenever he managed to get in to the station. "Family emergency, I'll talk to her about it."

"You already have, Dick." Barbara had managed some semblance of composure. The tears had stopped, and the crack in her voice was less noticeable. "Family leave only goes so far. I can handle things here."

"That's why you're standing here crying?"

"Dick, you don't need to be here for this."

"You expect me to be somewhere else? I'll transfer; I'll go to Gotham PD if it comes down to that."

"Dick-"

Raising his hand for silence, he studied the redhead intently. "Are you asking me to leave?"

"There's no reason for both of us-"

"Are. You. Asking me. To leave? Is that what you want?"

The tears were back, she was shaking again. She didn't answer him.

"Do you want me to leave? Or is it that you think I'm going to?"

She met his eyes for all of half a second. It was more than enough.

Dick grabbed Barbara's hand, leading her to one of the furniture sets nearby. Gently, he pushed her into a chair, crouching to be at her level. Without thinking about it, he ran his thumb down her cheekbone, taking away some of the moisture there. He used that action to coax her eyes up, making sure he had all her attention. "I'm not going anywhere. I shouldn't have gone the first time, at least not the way I did. You've probably got this three strikes policy all set up, but I'm not leaving. The waiting kills you, I know that, but I'm not letting you do it by yourself."

The redhead sucked in a breath. She leaned towards him, only to stop herself at the last minute.

Biting the inside of his cheek, Dick ran a hand over her left arm, not caring about where they were or how this might look. If Agnes Farnsworth happened to get lost on her way out, if tomorrow's _Gotham Insider _featured an article about him and Barbara and their alleged affair, then he'd deal with that tomorrow. For now, Dick's only concern was the woman in front of him. He'd shut Barbara out before, and he'd lost her because of it. She wouldn't do the same to him, even if she wanted to. "We'll skip the hope-giving speeches," he said softly. "But that's all you're getting. I'm sticking around. And Barbara, what you said about pretending, acting like you give a damn about any of this," He indicated their surroundings, "you don't need to do that. Not all the time."

He wasn't sure if Barbara moved first, or if he took the initiative. It didn't matter. Pulling her against him, Dick smoothed a hand over auburn locks. He stayed quiet, listening to her sob against his chest, letting her vent. He kissed her, but only near her hairline. This was the most physical contact they'd had since he got here, when she'd comforted him in the living room. They only came together if something terrible happened.

Derailing that train of thought, Dick felt Barbara clench his jacket between her fingers. Impossibly, her grip on him strengthened. Dusting his lips against her forehead, Dick held her closer, wishing he could do more and knowing he couldn't.

* * *

"You're milking this so much," Dick grumbled.

"Hardly," Barbara refuted. Propped up on the couch with junk food on the table and the big screen in front of her, the redhead looked quite content.

"You're not milking this?" Dick replied, adding a glass and a pitcher of lemonade to the refreshments.

"Not at all." Smiling, Barbara batted her lashes innocently.

She wasn't milking it. That was why he hadn't sat down in once in the last hour. "Lemonade to your satisfaction? Because I am not going back into that kitchen."

"It's good exercise."

"It's a big house. I've gotten more exercise being your manservant than I did during Robin training."

"If you're not going back to the kitchen, why do you care how the lemonade is?"

Where was Alfred? Why had he convinced Alfred to take a break? She wouldn't dream of doing this to Alfred. "I want to know if you're going to throw it at me and demand another batch."

Shrugging, Barbara sampled the yellow liquid. "Tastes great," she praised, after taking far too long to make her assessment.

"Great," Dick replied, moving towards the chair next to the sofa.

"Except…"

He froze. "What. Now?"

"The lemon has three seeds in it."

Okay, if she wanted to play the role of detail-oriented lunatic, he could deal with that. Wouldn't do much as far as shaking things up, but she wouldn't have to play against type either. "That's right, Barbara. Three seeds. Should we work on your alphabet next?"

"You don't have to get snippy. It's just that I don't usually like things with odd numbers."

Of course she didn't. But why did that bit sound so familiar?

"Relax, I'm not going to throw anything at you. If I did, you'd have to clean it up."

Dick stared at her incredulously. He hadn't paid attention to her last comment, because the answer had suddenly come to him. "You don't like odd numbers."

Lifting a shoulder, Barbara snagged a cracker from one of the platters. "They're odd., supervillains are odd. It's an association thing."

"I see. So you didn't steal that bit from a cartoon about a talking sponge?" Barbara looked surprised. She probably assumed he hadn't heard any of the show, being that he'd had to cater to her every whim every thirty seconds while it was on. "You noticed?"

"I noticed."

"Oh well."

"Yeah. So you absolutely aren't milking this?"

"Nope."

"Right."

"Right. Dick?"

"What?"

"Can you do me a favor?"

"No."

"Can you get my laptop? Alfred brought it over, but he left it in the-"

"No."

"Please?" Widening her eyes, Barbara blinked prettily at him, extending her bruised lower lip.

"No."

"Why?"

"Have I done something to offend you?"

"No, why?"

"Why are you torturing me?"

"I'm not."

"Uh huh."

"Even if I was, if I had the computer, I'd be too distracted to torture you."

"But you aren't. Torturing me."

"No. But I don't have my computer either. I think it's on the table in the foyer."

"I'm not getting your computer. I'm going to sit down here and regain my dignity."

"So…you're not getting the laptop?"

"No."

"You're just going to sit here?"

"Yes."

"Then why are you leaving the room?"

Dick froze. Why _was _he leaving the room? When had he started moving? It was the eye thing, he decided. The doe-eyed, blinking, eye thing, along with the lip. The fact that her face was bruised from the car wreck didn't help. Grabbing a blanket from the end of the couch, Barbara pulled the warm material over herself, slumping her shoulders as she sank further into the cushions. Dick didn't know whether to smile or scowl. "You're being strategically pathetic."

"Don't laugh at me, Grayson."

Apparently, the first option had won out. "Don't be strategically pathetic."

"I won't if you get my laptop."

"I'm not getting your laptop."

"Then why are you leaving the room?"

It was true. He was walking backwards again, away from her. "To go someplace where my soul isn't being crushed by menial tasks."

"Like the foyer, where the laptop is?"

He left without giving a response. He'd get the stupid computer, just to be nice. That didn't mean he had to be nice right away. He hadn't planned the route, known only that he wanted to stall awhile before fulfilling Barbara's request. Dick wasn't even aware of heading to the old grandfather clock until he was standing right in front of it. After a quick internal debate, he let his feet take him to the cavern underneath Wayne Manor.

Bruce, in his street clothes, was leaning back in his computer chair, eyes locked on the massive display. Dick walked quietly down the stairs. Stealthiness aside, he was surprised that Bruce didn't seem to realize he had company. Bruce's attention was riveted on the computer monitor as he pressed a finger to one of the keys. The image filling the screen stopped Dick in his tracks.

Zatanna. Dick had heard stories from Alfred, stories of puppy love that could've turned into more, if Bruce hadn't been Bruce. The billionaire hit another button.

Lois Lane. Bruce didn't talk much about the Metropolis reporter, but Dick had heard stories about her as well. A keystroke later, Lois was gone.

Selina Kyle. As herself, and as Catwoman. That one was fairly obvious. Dick knew what was coming next, and he wanted to close his eyes.

Barbara grinned at him from the screen. The other photos had stayed for barely a moment. Bruce lingered on this one, examining it for a full twenty seconds. Finally, he moved on to the next picture.

Barbara again, only this time she wasn't alone. She and Bruce were sitting together, the older man's arm draped over the redhead's shoulders. As usual, Babs was sporting a megawatt smile. Bruce's mouth was quirked, showing a glimpse of white teeth. It wasn't the usual smile, the one reserved for social events and meetings. He looked happy. Honestly happy. So did Barbara.

Something twisted in Dick's stomach. For a long time, he'd made himself believe that Bruce and Barbara were nothing serious. Not a fling, not exactly. A crush maybe, he thought crush was the word Barbara used the one time he'd been brave enough to bring it up. But Barbara's picture was next to Selina's. And Bruce was still staring at that picture. Dick very much wished he hadn't taken this detour.

Just as he was about to make his presence known, Bruce stiffened minutely. The photo disappeared, replaced by data from the latest crime logs. "Dick."

Bruce didn't sound angry, but Dick still felt terrible. For Bruce, and for himself. Burying those feelings, the younger man joined his mentor in front of the monitor. "There wouldn't happen to be any major villains on the loose, would there?"

Skimming the information, Bruce replied, "Not that I know of. Looking to get out of the house?"

There was a smirk in the older man's voice? His expression was typically unreadable, but Dick knew what he'd heard. Without his consent, the edges of his mouth turned upward. "You think we could give her the pain meds early, put her to sleep for a few hours?"

"You know she's just trying to get to you."

"What else is new?"

"You're hovering over her; she's looking for ways to send you out of the room."

Dick fought a pang of annoyance. Considering recent events, he felt he had every right to pull a Superman impression. Two nights ago, when Barbara finally, _finally _came around, Dick's heart had stopped. Her eyes had shot open, she'd glanced around wildly, and she hadn't known them. Her expression showed no recognition of Bruce or himself. For a moment, Dick's world imploded. He was going to be stuck in a cliché, soap opera storyline where Barbara knew nothing of her life. Nothing of Batgirl, nothing of their history together, nothing of how much he…

Then she'd come back to them, and Dick saw his own relief mirrored on Bruce's face. The crash had bruised some ribs, wrecked her knee, and left an impressive collection of bumps and gashes, but Barbara was back. She knew her name, their names, the president's name, as well as the name of the leader of a country Dick wasn't familiar with. Tests, tests, and more tests showed that the toxin was leaving her system. Unfortunately, the going was slow. For days, Babs had experienced panic attacks, struggling to overcome the effects of Crane's poison. She was undoubtedly getting better, but that didn't stop Dick from worrying. Or hovering, as the case seemed to be. In fact…

"Hey! You were the one who asked me to watch her all day."

"I was," Bruce acknowledged, typing commands into his keyboard.

"In other words, hover."

"Yes."

"Which she hates."

"Clearly."

"I don't suppose you could come upstairs and let her punish _you _for awhile?"

"I could," Bruce replied, the smirk in his voice moving to his lips.

"But you won't."

"Later. Stop giving in to her and she'll stop torturing you."

Dick threw up his hands. "She's doing the eye thing! The blinking thing, with the lip and the pout and all of it! You know what I'm talking about."

The typing stopped for barely a moment. "Yeah. I know what you're talking about."

Despite his words, Dick had been smiling. Somehow, he'd been seeing the old Bruce these last few days. The billionaire had spent much of that time holed up down here, but when he did grace them with his presence, it was easy to forget. Bruce would be the guy Dick thought was gone. They'd talk and eat and laugh a little, Dick and Bruce and Barbara. Alfred would chime in, and it was almost like being normal. Then there'd be a look or a remark or a gesture, something to rip away the illusion.

"You keep her waiting, it'll only get worse."

There was dry humor there, but something else too. Why did the situation have to be so complicated? Why couldn't any of them speak to each other anymore without fear of stepping on a landmine? Why did Bruce sit here in the dark staring at Barbara's image, when the real thing was a staircase away?

* * *

"Why are you doing that?"

Barbara didn't look up from the computer, typing furiously as she spoke. "Doing what?"

"That," Dick responded, leaning over the back of couch and gesturing at the screen. Letters and numbers flashed across the monitor faster than he could read them. "I thought you were playing Asteroids?"

"I was, then I was playing Space Invaders. Now I'm doing this."

"And what exactly would 'this' be?"

"I'm helping out a hacker friend. He's having trouble cracking a database."

"You have hacker friends?"

"I have lots of friends. I'm nice." Grinning, she sat back on the couch, closing the laptop and setting it aside. "Oracle does it again."

Dick's eyebrows went skyward. "Oracle?"

Barbara shrugged. "It's my hacker name."

"You named yourself after an all seeing, all knowing-"

"So?"

Dick snorted, resting his arms on the couch behind her. "Yay for narcissistic tendencies."

"It's not narcissism if it's true."

"Uh huh."

The redhead twisted around to look at him, a teasing glint in her eyes. "Are you implying something?"

"You tell me, All Knowing Master of the Cyber Domain."

Snorting, Barbara perked up when Alfred made his way into the room. "Alfred, Dick's being mean to me. He said I wasn't smart."

"Yeah, that's exactly what I said."

"He called me a narcissist."

"Because you are one. Does Alfred know what your hacker name is?"

"It's not just my hacker name. I also use it for online poker."

"See, Alfred? She's got a gambling problem, too."

"Children," the butler interjected. "If you could _attempt _to behave like adults, I would be most grateful."

Dick and Barbara apologized, sharing a smile with their old friend. For a moment, all was quiet.

"Barbara's been running me ragged all day, just because she can."

"Tattletale. And if you'd leave me alone for five minutes-"

"I would, if you'd stop calling me in here to get you things."

"I don't-"

"Dick. Barbara."

Both of them froze. Dick spoke first. "Hey, Bruce."

"Hi," Barbara added, punctuating the greeting with a small wave.

Bruce nodded in acknowledgement, staring from one to the other. "Problem?"

Dick shrugged. "She started it."

Sighing, Alfred set down a tea tray. "Dinner will be served in an hour. Might I ask that you refrain from using the food to settle this disagreement?"

Dick blushed. One lousy food fight and he was marked forever.

"It's all right, Alfred." Bruce waited for the butler to leave before speaking again. "Barbara?"

"Sorry. I don't see why I have to sit here though. I've been fine since-"

"Barbara-"

Ignoring Dick's interruption, Barbara started again. "I'm fine, other than being a little stir crazy."

"A little?" Dick muttered.

"You're not in pain? No-"

"I. Am. Fine. Totally fine."

"You're not fine, at least not yet. There are still traces of the gas in your bloodstream."

"But-"

"Barbara. Stay here until we're sure it's run its course. Please."

"Yeah," Dick added. "It won't be for much longer, and you get free meals."

"Sure," Barbara grumbled. "_Now _you take his side."

"You're right," he replied. "On this one I do."

Sighing, Barbara let out a breath and slumped into the cushions. Dick was reasonably sure she wasn't being intentionally pathetic this time. He grinned. It amused him when she got frustrated.

The redhead stared between Dick and Bruce, grimacing in annoyance. "I hate both of you. Alfred's the only one here worth speaking to."

"Thank you. Miss Barbara," Alfred called, passing the room on his way from one chore to another.

Dick chuckled derisively. "Yeah, you're nice. You have lots of friends because you hate everyone."

"Not everyone." Barbara refuted. "Just you two."

Bruce cleared his throat. "You're sure you're feeling better?"

"Absolutely."

"Nothing I should know?"

"Absolutely not."

Bruce paused, rubbing a hand over his chin. "Care for some fresh air?"

Her eyes lit up. "Seriously?"

"Keep it short; Alfred won't be happy if you're late for supper. Dick?"

"Yeah?"

"I have some work to do."

That meant Bruce would miss dinner. Again. "You don't need to patrol tonight. I can-"

"No, I'll take care of it."

Dick glanced at Barbara, asking a silent question. She nodded infinitesimally, and he turned his attention back to Bruce. "Sure, I'll take Babs for a walk."

"Right off the edge of a cliff," Barbara mumbled.

"Well, this is the ideal location for something like that."

"Don't you have little green boots to try on? The kind that show of your legs because the little green pants are almost non-existent?"

"Have a nice time," Bruce said dryly.

* * *

Ten minutes later, he and Barbara were strolling along the hills surrounding the mansion. More accurately, _he _was strolling, pushing Babs along in front of him. The wheelchair made him unreasonably edgy. Barbara was fine, the knee injury relatively minor. He had to remember that. Not that she'd been happy about the arrangement either. She'd whined and moaned and done the blinking eyes, pouty lip thing, insisting to Bruce that she could walk. Bruce let her try crutches and didn't comment when the experiment was a rousing failure. If Barbara kept up the cabin fever routine, they could always use the crutches as makeshift swords. When Alfred wasn't around, of course.

Yeah, the chair made him uncomfortable, despite knowing that Barbara's injuries could've been much, much worse. Or maybe it was _because _Barbara's injuries could've been much, much worse.

"What are you thinking about?" Barbara asked suddenly.

Dick glanced at the waves crashing against the cliff, the setting sun casting oranges and yellows across the water. "Why do you ask?"

"You're hitting a lot of bumps, and I want to know your eyes are on the road."

Dick smirked. "Consider this payment for making me your personal slave. What are _you_ thinking about?"

Barbara shrugged. "This place isn't as dark and gloomy as I remember."

Nodding, Dick realized that she couldn't see the gesture, which forced him to verbalize. "Can't argue with you there."

"Doubtful. You always find a way to argue with me."

"Because you always find a way to get an argument started," Dick laughed.

They moved in companionable silence for awhile, enjoying the view and the company. Finally, Barbara half-turned in her chair, trying to catch Dick's eyes. "Is it bad that I think today was kind of good? I mean, all things considered…"

"I know," Dick assured her, brushing his hand on her shoulder. "I get it. Sit back, you're distracting the driver."

Barbara, mature young woman that she was, stuck her tongue out at him before sitting properly again. Dick stopped at the top of the hill, gripping the chair handles as he watched the tide roll in. "Hey, Barb?"

"Hmm?"

"You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah," she replied instantly.

Really? Because Dick wasn't sure if he was okay, so he didn't think she had any right to be okay. "You sure?"

"Yeah," she repeated. "Just…"

"Just…?"

"I miss Tim. Being here makes me miss Tim."

"Yeah," Dick murmured. "I get that."

The redhead nodded, chuckling ruefully. "You know what the worst part about all this is?"

He'd guess it would be the part where she almost died. "Which part?"

"My car," Barbara groaned. "I loved that car, and now it's trashed."

It certainly was. Dick had seen pictures. She was lucky to be alive. "But you are okay? Because it would be okay if you weren't. Okay. If you weren't really okay yet, it'd be okay to admit that you weren't. Okay. Okay?"

Barbara half-turned in her chair, then seemed to think better of it. "All right," she replied slowly. "I'm not okay anymore, because I think my brain just twisted into itself and died. Are _you_ okay, Dick?"

He wanted things to be different between them, he wanted honesty. "You almost died, Barbara," he said in a very low voice. "You almost died. I didn't know what was going on; I don't think Alfred even knew when he called me. All he said was…" Swallowing hard, Dick forced himself to start over. "You could've been dead, I didn't know. Then I sat there waiting for you to wake up…not knowing…" He trailed off. He held her chair handles in a white-knuckle grip, unaware that his hands were shaking.

Barbara sucked in a harsh breath, letting it out shakily. "Truth?"

"Please."

"I didn't know what was happening either. I was driving and then…you know how it is when that stuff kicks in. It's been so long though, and it started so fast that I couldn't understand what it was. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't think because I was so scared. Then the other car hit me and…and you weren't the only one who thought I was dead."

Awkwardly, Barbara reached a hand to her face. Dick spent half a second making sure the chair was secure before getting in front of the redhead, crouching low to the ground. He felt like holding her, but he didn't feel like aggravating any injuries. He contented himself with taking her hand in both of his, relieved when she squeezed his fingers.

"And then I was stuck in that stupid nightmare…but it was different this time."

He supposed it would be. Barbara's worst fear used to be about Bruce and her father and what would happen if she died. But, after her first exposure to Crane's gas, Barbara mentioned a conversation with the Commissioner that apparently put those worries to rest. That old fear must've gotten replaced with a new one, especially after what happened to Tim. Tim's situation had shown all of them what fear and nightmares were really about.

A part of him wanted to ask what Barbara saw while under Crane's influence. A bigger part of him didn't care, at least not right now. Right now, he only cared about one thing. Hesitantly, Dick reached towards her, not wanting to make a mistake. Barbara grabbed at his jacket, fisting the leather in her hands. A series of inarticulate sounds were buried against his shoulder.

Dick nearly pulled her out of the chair, so desperate was he for confirmation. He'd lost her so many times, in so many different ways. Breathing harshly, he held her against him, desperately trying not to hurt her. She was fine, she was here. He needed so badly to remember that. Kissing her cheek, her forehead, Dick rocked on his heels, forcing himself to realize that they were still alive, still here, they still had a chance.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: **I'm sure you guys know by now how much I appreciate all your encouragement, but I'm feeling the need to repeat myself. Thanks again for all your great feedback. Enjoy the chapter, and remember that reviewing is just as fundamental as reading.

Oh, before I forget, the final lines between Dick and Bruce aren't really mine. They're based on a conversation Batman and Nightwing had in _Infinite Crisis _#4, written by Geoff Johns.

* * *

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

Things hadn't been good for any of them for a very long time, but it was never supposed to get this bad. Dick wasn't supposed to be afraid to talk to his adopted brother, but that's where they were. Thanks to Joker, that's exactly where they were.

Afraid may not have been the right word. Dick stopped being afraid of Tim weeks ago, after Tim stopped screaming and laughing and trying to hurt anyone who got too close. No, Dick wasn't afraid of Tim, he was just…wary. Barbara was always on him about that, telling him he needed to act normally around the boy. And Dick tried, he honestly did. The thing of it was that Bruce had always taught him to keep his guard up, watch for potential threats. And Tim, weak and drugged-up and emaciated though he was, was still a potential threat. His adopted brother was a threat. God, it wasn't supposed to be like this.

"Hey Tim," Dick greeted, cheerfully strolling into the living room. "How's it going?"

Slowly, Tim turned his head in Dick's direction. Once-sharp eyes were glazed and vacant. "Leslie said I could get out of bed now."

Dick ignored the flat, monotonous voice, ignored the fact that Tim wouldn't quite look at him. Joining the boy on the couch, Dick resisted the urge to remind Tim that he knew this already, that he'd been in the room with everyone else when Dr. Thompkins gave the okay.

"They don't usually leave me alone," Tim stated. His eyes had moved to the TV that wasn't on.

"Yeah," Dick responded carefully, even though Tim seemed to be talking more to himself than to him. "Tim, did you tell anyone you were coming down here?"

Tim blinked once, frowning in concentration. "Oops." He grinned a little, meeting Dick's eyes for the first time. "Heh heh. Forgot. Sorry."

That chuckle made Dick want to scream. He wanted to scream and rage, but he _didn't _want to see the Joker every time he looked at Tim Drake. "No biggie. I'd want a break too if I had everyone in the house bugging me all the time."

Tim nodded. Very, very slowly. "Barbara was here before."

"Was she?"

Tim nodded again. "She's here a lot now. So are you."

Dick mirrored the action, trying not to wonder when Tim's last treatment had been. "Does that bother you?"

The boy shrugged, bony shoulders lifting under white pajamas. He stared at a point over Dick's left shoulder. "You're here because you care. All of you."

Dick got the distinct impression that that line came from Leslie, something repeated during hours and hours of therapy sessions. He ignored the fact that Tim's voice was still completely dead. "You got that right, Tim. We're all here for you, okay?"

"Babs and Bruce were fighting again, that's why she was here before and she isn't here now."

Oh hell. "They'll be fine, Tim. Bruce fights with everyone." Even as he said that, Dick thought he had a decent idea of how Babs must've felt refereeing between him and Bruce. The strained relationship between his former mentor and his former girlfriend wasn't obvious, but Dick saw the cracks forming. Barbara was spending more time at her apartment, and casual looks or gestures between her and Bruce, gestures that hinted at their closeness, were no longer visible. Dick tried not to be happy about that. He'd always known that Bruce and Barbara wouldn't last, but he didn't want these to be the circumstances under which they parted. On the positive side, that nightmare in which Babs became his new stepmother was looking less plausible by the day.

"I watched the news today."

By now, Dick was used to the random and rapid subject changes whenever Tim came out of his head long enough to hold conversation. "Did you?"

"Some old lady got shot in the face. Her son-in-law did it. Crime rate's highest it's been in years."

"Tim-"

"Bruce shouldn't be here all the time. It isn't good, it isn't normal."

"Bruce is here because he wants to help you get better. That's all he wants right now, and that's all you need to worry about." He didn't address the second part of Tim's observation. Frankly, Dick was shocked that Bruce had gone this long without the mask. Stranger still was the fact that Bruce didn't appear to have any _interest _in suiting up again. Hard as it was to believe, it seemed that Bruce's only priority was working with Leslie to help his adopted son.

"He needs Batman. Everybody needs Batman."

Sighing, Dick reached for Tim's shoulder. The boy flinched a bit, but Dick held on. "Tim," he said, waiting for the boy to look at him properly. "Nothing is more important than you. Barbara and I can cover until Batman gets back, but you-"

"He won't let me be Robin anymore. No more dynamic duo. Unless you count Babs. When Batman comes back, him and Babs can be the new dynamic duo."

Blinking, Dick let go of Tim's shoulder, searching for what to say. Babs. Where the hell _was _Babs? She was always better with the talking stuff than he was. And did she know something he didn't? "Did he tell you that? That you couldn't be Robin?"

"No. I don't…don't know. He's going to though, you know he is."

Until recently, Dick had been too focused on getting Tim to form whole sentences to worry much about Robin's future. "Tim, after what happened…do you even _want _that costume anymore?" He tried to keep the incredulity from his voice, but wasn't terribly successful.

Shrugging, Tim stared out a window on the opposite wall.

"Tim?"

"He needs help. He does too much. He shouldn't have to do it on his own."

Reflexively, Dick reached for the boy. Tim jerked away, and Dick wished the Joker were alive for just another moment so he could kill the clown himself. "Tim, listen to me. You don't owe anybody anything. You've done so much more than anyone could ask, and-"

"Batman needs Robin," Tim argued, turning to meet Dick's eyes. Beyond the drugs and the exhaustion was pure, naked desperation.

"Tim," Dick repeated hoarsely. He was used to laughing with this kid, teaching him how to rile Bruce without _really _getting him mad, trading blackmail material for use in the never-ending sibling battles between the kid and Barbara. The boy in front of him was not someone Dick knew how to deal with, and the pain in his eyes was not something Dick knew how to comprehend.

"I don't want to be like this," Tim declared. "I hate being like this."

"Tim, I told you, it'll get better. I _promise_ it'll get better. All of us, we'll-"

"You and Barbara are being nicer than I remember."

It was gone. The flash of raw, honest emotion was gone, replaced by a blank stare and a lifeless voice. "Nicer?" Dick repeated. The moment was lost, and there was no point trying to get it back, not when Tim was still one step above the walking dead.

"You and Barbara don't fight as much."

He supposed that was somewhat true. The quiet sniping they used to engage in had certainly come to a halt. Unfortunately, those old, petty arguments had turned into something else. "That bother you?" Dick wondered, pasting on another fake smile.

"Doesn't bother me, it's just weird."

"What's weird?" Barbara asked, making her way into the living room. Claiming a chair opposite the couch, she wore her own overly-happy grin.

"Nothing," Dick said casually. "Tim here thinks we're being too nice to each other. Guess he finds it unnatural."

"He does?" Barbara replied with exaggerated surprise. Shaking her head, Barbara leaned forward, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "It's okay, Tim. I have to be nice to Dick; otherwise he'd never have any contact with the female species."

"Aren't you the little carrot-top comedian?" Dick retorted.

"Watch the names, Grayson."

"Watch the slander, Gordon."

"Fine," Barbara acquiesced. "I take it back. I'm not the only woman who'd bother talking to you."

"Thank you."

"I forgot about Leslie."

They spent half an hour going back and forth at each other, attempting to cheer Tim up. Watching them bicker used to serve as his chief form of amusement when the videogames got boring and there were no petty criminals to beat on. Dick tried to be happy when Tim laughed a couple times, tried not to listen to that sick little chuckle.

After what seemed an eternity, Bruce and Leslie showed up, whisking Tim off for another session or treatment or whatever the heck they were doing. Dick didn't look at his mentor. Barbara made the attempt. She smiled goodbye to Tim, then she tried to catch Bruce's attention. The older man ignored her, leaving the room with Tim and Dr. Thompkins.

"I wish you wouldn't look at him like that," Barbara stated, after a few seconds of tense silence.

There was an edge to her voice that Dick didn't like. "Drop it, Barb, I'm not in the mood."

"Right, because it's always about what you want."

"Is there a reason you're trying to pick a fight with me."

"Is Tim reason enough for you?"

"Tim. I come down here, Tim's sitting by himself with that look on his face. You know what he's capable of when-"

"So I'm supposed to watch him 24/7? I just got here."

"So did I, and the last thing I need is you biting my head off."

"I'm not," Barbara argued hotly. "But he doesn't need you looking at him like-"

"I'm doing the best I can, Barbara."

"I know, but that's not enough if Tim thinks you're disgusted by him."

"How would you know what Tim thinks? You two squeezing in heart-to-hearts between his Thorazine drips?"

"He told Leslie," Barbara replied in a low, angry voice.

"Tim told Leslie that I'm disgusted by him?"

"Tim told Leslie that he's disgusted by himself. And you, his childhood hero, unable to have a conversation with him, that's not going to help."

Cursing, Dick stood up from the couch and began to pace. "You know I love that kid, Barbara. Just…every time I look at him, I think of what Joker did and I can't-"

"It's the act, not Tim. I know that."

"Then why are you attacking me for it?" Dick fumed.

"Because he doesn't!" the redhead exclaimed, getting up from her chair and moving towards him. "Either get yourself together or tell him-"

"Tell him what? That I love him, that it's not his fault? You don't think I've done that a hundred times? He doesn't remember things, Barb. Whatever he's doped up on-"

"I've told you before that we can't do anything about that yet."

"I know what you've told me! I also know that he probably won't remember asking me about taking out the Robin suit."

"What?"

"Did you and Bruce talk about letting him be Robin again?"

"I…not really."

"Not really. Because Tim must've heard you not really talking about it. So, did you two decide on anything?"

Barbara's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Don't."

"How can you even be thinking about that now?"

"It's going to come up sooner or later. And besides, it wasn't a serious conversation."

"Of course it wasn't. He can barely feed himself yet, and you're already planning his return to the streets."

"The only thing anyone's planning is the day he does get better, when he can function again. Or is that an 'if' for you?"

Dick stopped pacing, throwing her a dark glare. "I want him better just as much as you do, so don't even imply anything different. I want him better. And when he gets better, the last thing he needs to worry about is you and Bruce and your little crusade."

"So it's just our crusade now? I guess. You're the one who went and established himself as a cop. Right side of the law, no more vigilante silliness. By the way, your costume's sitting on the dryer."

"Why does it always come back to me leaving, huh? What does that have to do with anything? Why can't you accept the fact that I needed time to figure things out?"

"Why can't _you _accept the fact that not everything is about you? Not everything is a conspiracy against Dick Grayson, Bruce and I versus you and everyone else."

"Why are you and Bruce making decisions about the kid's future without consulting me? I'm not part of the club anymore, so I don't count?"

"No one is making a decision about anything! As usual, you're jumping to conclusions and shooting off your mouth."

"Sorry, Barbara. Sorry I jump to conclusions and shoot my mouth off. Sorry I can't look at Tim and pretend everything's normal. Because I'm sure if you and Bruce joke around enough and watch your facial expressions, he's going to forget all about what happened!"

"You're unbelievable. Every time I think you've gotten more mature, that you've stopped acting like the jerk you used to be, I get this. Get over it, Dick. Let it go already."

"Yeah, because it's just that easy."

"'God, I don't even know why I bother anymore!"

"Neither do I. You've got someone else to be there for you now, right?"

"Like you have any right to talk about being there for me."

"Yeah, that isn't what I've been trying to do since I got here. Just forget it," he grumbled, heading towards the door. "I have a shift at the station."

"Of course you do."

Dick froze, turning to look at her again. "What now, Barbara?"

"Nothing, go to work. It's actually a good excuse for walking out, as opposed to the ones you usually come up with."

"So we're back to this, huh? How many times have I apologized? How many times have I told you I made a mistake? You want me to drop it with Bruce, when he hasn't done a thing to show that maybe, somehow, he _might've _had something to do with my leaving. Meanwhile, I bend over backwards to make things better with you, and all you can do is bring up one lousy mistake."

"Is that all it was to you, one lousy mistake? Because if you still see it that way, you really haven't changed at all. As for Bruce, he _tried _to make things better between you, and you slammed the door on him. Just like you did with me."

"Sure. We're sitting here falling apart because of a green-haired lunatic, and you're punishing me for stuff that happened years ago. And _I'm _the one with the grudge? Take your own advice, Barbara. Let it go."

"Because it's just that easy," she murmured. "You know, I've spent months thinking about how none of this had to happen, but I didn't realize how true that was until now."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"What do you think? Joker did this to break us. Which is funny, because we've been broken for years now. All Joker really did was point that out."

* * *

Nightwing winced as sharp claws dug into his cheek. "Lady, you really need a manicure."

Laughing, Catwoman dodged away from him, cracking her whip against the roof. "You'll forgive me if I don't put much weight on your opinion."

"Only if _you _forgive me for this," Dick responded, pulling a Batarang from his belt.

She was fast, but this time he was faster. The crimefighter smirked at her expression when she realized her whip had been sliced in two. Half of it stayed between her fingers, half of it fell at her feet. "Toys like that should be left at home."

"But which room in the home? If you're thinking what I know you're thinking, then batsy's little bird boy has quite the dirty mind."

"Says the pot to the kettle."

A rustling of wind along with the soft sound of footsteps caught the attention of crimefighter and criminal. Looking to their right, both saw Batgirl walk across the roof of Gotham's largest jewelry store. "Problem?" the redhead asked.

"Not at all," Catwoman replied. "The pigeon and I were just getting reacquainted. He did attack me first, but why dwell on the details?"

"Enough," Nightwing growled. "Hand over what you stole."

"Stole? Me? I was just out for some fresh air."

"On top of a jewelers?" Batgirl asked.

Catwoman smiled. "Busy schedule, not much time to window shop during the day. I promise you I didn't take a thing," she added, sidling up next to Nightwing. "Did you see me enter or leave the place?"

Scowling, Dick pushed her away from him.

"Exactly," Selina nodded. Before he could move again, she fingered the gash in his cheek, drawing more blood. Nightwing threw a punch, easily blocked by the thief. "You wouldn't hit a woman, would you?"

"No," Batgirl replied for him, quickly closing the distance between them. "Fortunately, I don't have that problem."

"Teamwork," Selina drawled, doing a backflip to get away from the heroes. "How sweet. Sorry to tell you this again, but your teammate here jumped the gun. Nothing on me except the clothes on my back," she insisted, winking at Nightwing. "Want to frisk me, see for yourself?"

"If you're not here to steal," said Barbara, "what _are _you here for?"

"If you must know, I was hoping to get your boss's attention. I was waiting for Mr. Tall Dark and Brooding when Wingman here assaulted me."

"Considering that you tried shooting me out of the sky last time we met, I think I was downright cordial," Dick opined.

"How can you still be mad about that?" Catwoman wondered. "It was only a flare gun."

"Oh, well in that case," Dick barked, one hand pressed to his wounded face.

"You've got three seconds to explain why we shouldn't take you in right now," Batgirl stated.

"Besides your physical health and the state of your egos?" Catwoman replied. Abruptly, her demeanor became serious as she held up her hands in a conciliatory gesture. "Look, I didn't come here for trouble. Like I said, I just wanted to speak with Batman."

"Why?" Dick asked suspiciously.

"Because I know something's wrong," was the soft response. "He hasn't been seen in months, and neither has the younger one."

"That's not your concern," Batgirl snapped.

Nightwing shot her a warning glance, doubting that she'd actually pay attention to it. "Batman is just fine," he said calmly. "Same goes for Robin."

"Then why has it only been you two out here? Somehow, I don't think the bat and the brat took off for a little bonding time."

"You don't want to talk about them like that," Barbara said from behind clenched teeth.

Giving her another look, Dick put a hand on her arm, stopping her from moving forward. "You know what they say about redheads and tempers," he stated, pulling his hand back when Babs relaxed slightly. "I'd watch what comes out of that mouth of yours."

"Right," Catwoman drawled, eyes shooting between the other two. "Don't you guys have some policy about dating within the work group?"

"We also have a policy about criminals trespassing on private property."

"One I'm very familiar with," Selina agreed. "I meant it when I said that I wasn't looking for trouble. I knew it was a long shot, but I thought that maybe if he saw me…well. It doesn't matter. Whatever either of you say, I know something's happened, and I'd appreciate it if you could relay a message for me." When neither crimefighter responded, Selina finished her request. "Tell Batman that I'm here if he needs someone, if he ever wants to talk."

"Trust me," Barbara growled, "he's fine in that department."

Catwoman blinked in surprise. Dick groaned silently as her gaze travelled between the vigilantes. He could practically see the wheels of her mind spinning into overdrive. "Oh," she finally muttered. "_Ohhhh. _Well, I have to admit, I didn't see that one coming. What a twisted ball of yarn that must be. Still, tell him I'm thinking of him, and that I hope things get better for all of you. Really." That said, Catwoman leapt gracefully into the chasm of night, taking her half a whip with her.

"I told you I was working alone tonight," Barbara said testily.

"And I respected that. You're the one who busted in on us."

"Sorry to interrupt your date."

"Always with the jokes. Should we go after her?" Dick asked wearily.

"Yes," Barbara replied, matching his tone. "But there's no point to it, she's gone already."

Dick nodded, wincing as he pressed against the gash on his cheek. "Damn."

"You okay?"

"She just caught me off guard. "

"They look deep," Barbara argued, visually inspecting the claw marks.

On another night, she would've asked to touch him, to check the injury more thoroughly. Dick wasn't sure if he was happy or sad that she didn't do so. "They look worse than they are," he insisted. "Alfred will make sure I don't bleed to death once I get back to the Cave."

Barbara turned away from him, apparently bringing the topic to a close. "That was fun," Barbara said miserably, gesturing in the direction Catwoman had gone.

"A blast," he replied. "Bruce really needs to rethink his taste in women."

Barbara shot him a very unpleasant look. "I didn't mean you," he said quickly. "Come on. I meant Selina with her cat fixation and Talia with her dad who's all about global cleansing."

Barbara continued to glare.

"Hey," Dick said quietly. "I _am _sorry. For that, for what happened the other day-"

"Its fine," she said, holding up her hand for silence.

"It's not."

"You should head back, get that taken care of."

"Barbara, please."

Sighing, the redhead let her voice soften. "It is. We know the drill by now. One of us gets mad, it's too early to take it out on the criminal element, so we fight with each other. We're so used to fighting with each other that it's become a default defense mechanism."

He couldn't completely disagree with her. Just as they'd been propping each other up throughout this ordeal, they'd also been using each other to deal with the pain. The latest blowout was the fifth in five weeks, "That can't be healthy."

"As opposed to everything else we do that _is _healthy?" Barbara wondered.

"Okay," Dick conceded, "point taken." Still, Dick was uncomfortable. The arguments were coming more frequently, getting more personal. They'd been avoiding each other as much as possible for the last three days, and Dick wasn't ashamed to admit that he'd missed her.

Barbara seemed to be thinking along the same lines. "I know we can't keep this up. I even _told _you we couldn't keep this up. Tim's the important thing, and we keep dredging up everything else."

"Kitchen sink fighting."

Behind her cowl, Barbara blinked in confusion. "What?"

"When people argue, but they get off the main point. They bring up everything else they can possibly find to argue about. Everything but-

"—the kitchen sink," Barbara finished.

"Yeah," Dick nodded. "They lose focus, say things they don't mean, then that all leads to a negative communication spiral. Negative communication spirals don't solve anything, so there's this stupid pattern of circular communication, and the same stuff happens over and over, without any resolutions."

"Dick…?"

Nightwing looked at his feet. "Bludhaven P.D. made us take this seminar on interpersonal communication last year."

"I see. Was it helpful?"

"Theory is always easier than real-world application. Barb, I know…I know we have issues that have nothing to do with Tim. And I know that Tim's the most important thing, so we haven't been able to fix much between us…"

"And what, you want to fix things now?"

He couldn't begrudge her her skepticism, not after all the times she'd tried talking things out while he ran the other way. "I want us to stop hurting each other," he replied softly. "We've got more than enough people to do that for us."

"Dick I…we can't do this. Even in the best of times, we couldn't do this."

"Barbara-"

"No just…let's not go there. I've forgiven you, you've forgiven me, and the rest is just ancient history that comes up when we run out of things to talk about."

She was shutting him out. Was this payback or something else? "You got an 'A' in your history course."

Barbara's mouth quirked. "Which one, we had to take more than one history class?"

Shrugging, Dick took a guess that wasn't truly a guess. "All of them. You aced all your history classes."

"I also hated every single one of them?"

"So?" Dick countered, tamping down on his frustration while deciding that this absolutely had to be payback. "Barbara, you said that Joker was trying to break us, and he was. And the thing is Babs…I don't know. I guess maybe you and I had this fantasy that Tim would suddenly wake up and be Tim again. And maybe that was the reason we managed to wait as long as we did. But now that's gone and…I'm losing you, Barbara. I know that's what's happening and I don't…I don't want that."

Dick would've liked to give that speech when he wasn't trying to stop all the blood from leaking out of his face. With both hands free, he would've been able to touch her. Then again, perhaps it was good that one hand was occupied while the other hung uselessly at his side, unsure what to do with itself. Freedom to touch her might have gotten him in very big trouble at this point.

Barbara didn't speak right away, nor did she look at him right away. When she did get around to forming a response, it wasn't exactly the one he'd been hoping for. "Dick, you're such an idiot."

The former Boy Wonder visibly deflated. "And now I'm right back in our first two years of college."

Barbara waved off the comment, meeting his eyes for the first time in awhile. "Look, Grayson. No matter how well we—well, mostly you—manage to screw things up between us, I'm still going to be here. Even though we're not where we were, I still need you and you still need me. Who else is there besides Bruce and Alfred? You're not going to lose me Dick, if for no other reason than my knowing what it feels like to…never mind."

Dick's eyebrows went to his hairline. "More of that history stuff?"

Barbara snorted. "It's all history with us. One twisted ball of yarn."

He couldn't help the smirk, he really couldn't. "You're quoting the Cat Lady"

Sighing, the redhead rubbed a hand over her face. "God, I guess I am. I shouldn't be working if I've reached this point."

"You staying at the Manor tonight?" Dick asked carefully.

There was the smallest of hesitations before she answered, summoning the too-cheerful smile usually reserved for Tim. "Not tonight. I'm going to do some late-night cleaning before the dust consumes my apartment."

"Another wild Friday night," Dick remarked, masking his concern well.

"You know me. Make sure Alfred checks out those cuts," she ordered, half-turning away from him.

"Babs-"

"Later, Dick, after you stop bleeding everywhere."

Watching her pull the grapple from her belt, Dick decided that he couldn't leave things like this. There was something he absolutely _had _to be sure of. "Barbara?"

Standing near the edge of the roof, the redhead met his eyes again. "Yeah?"

"The history stuff. Not all of it was bad, right? I mean, there were some good periods?"

She was quiet a moment, moving her eyes away from him while simultaneously firing off a jumpline. "Yes, Dick. There were lots of good periods" Her next statement was voiced as she swung away, so quiet that Dick wasn't sure he'd really heard it "More good periods than I care to think about."

* * *

"Almost ready?" Dick asked, poking his head in the doorway.

"That I am," Barbara replied, stuffing a few clothes into the duffel Alfred had retrieved from her apartment. "You don't have to do this you know, Alfred can-"

"Alfred has Alfred stuff to do," Dick argued, smiling as he perched himself on the guest bed.

"Alfred stuff?"

"I don't see him very often, and I can't remember the last time I had one of his cherry pies."

"Ah, so you've got him slaving over a hot stove for you."

"He likes it," Dick argued. "You know how he gets when I try using the kitchen."

"That's because _he _knows what happens when you cook."

"Man, nobody forgets anything around here. A couple grease fires, a small incident with a soufflé, and suddenly I'm relegated to the dining room."

"Not really. Alfred told me he doesn't like you in there either, ever since you swing off the chandelier."

"I was eight!"

Barbara gave him a teasing smile, tilting her head sideways.

"The first time," Dick added.

Laughing, Barbara zipped the bag closed and began scanning the room for any missed items. "I do appreciate the lift home. It'll be nice to get in my own space again."

"I bet. Out of giant rooms with giant electronic equipment and giant, fully-stocked kitchens, into your box of an apartment with the thin walls and the perpetually leaky drainpipe."

"Always the optimist, aren't you Dick?"

"Where you're concerned? Always."

"Don't you have something more important to do than playing substitute chauffer?"

"Nothing that involves borrowing one of Bruce's cars, so no."

"What about that thing? You know, the thing you do when you're not running around in tights and beating people up?"

"Sleeping?"

"Day job."

"Job? What is this job of which you speak? Seriously Babs, don't worry about that. I cleared the time off with my boss; it's not a big deal."

"Don't come crying to me when she fires you."

"Won't, I have other sources of income."

Narrowing her eyes at the cryptic response, Barbara leaned forward on the bed. "Do I want to know?"

"You're asking aren't you?"

"Yes. You answering?"

"No."

"Are we talking about the trust fund?"

"Nope, _Oracle, _this is something else."

"Spill it, Grayson."

"Stop being so nosy, Babs."

"Oracle. All-seeing, all-knowing. It's my job to be nosy."

"Hobby. You don't get paid to snoop into other people's computers, so it's your _hobby _to be nosy."

"Spill your financial secrets or I'll tell Alfred that you were the one who spilled strawberry syrup on the eighty-year-old tablecloth."

"I sell bat gadgets on eBay, got a stockpile of them back at my apartment."

"Funny."

"Not meant to be. It's nothing dangerous; I modify the products so they can't be used for evil."

"Hmm. Your buyers know this?"

"If they read the fine print. Don't give me that look, Barbara; cost of living goes up every year. Still, I could cut you in on some of the profits."

"Buy my silence, you mean."

"25% of all sales could be yours."

"Generous, but I'll pass."

"Your loss." The grin he'd been wearing faltered slightly, replaced by a tender half-smile. Snagging her hand where it lay between them on the bed, he squeezed her fingers lightly. "I mean it, don't worry about the work thing, I've got vacation days racked up from the last three years."

"In that case," Barbara replied, squeezing his hand affectionately. "Thanks for keeping me company through this whole thing."

"You're welcome. But next time you want to spend time with me, use that big brain of yours to find a less dangerous way of doing it."

"I'll work on that. In the meantime, I'm ready when you are."

Dick nodded, but didn't move. His tender expression turned into something else. "You had me worried."

"I had myself worried too, remember?" she asked, demeanor sobering to match his.

"I know, I know. Just…after Tim, if something happened to you, too…"

"Easy Grayson." The words were soft, but a small twinkle could be seen in Barbara's eyes. "I really am okay now. And I'm harder to get rid of then those poisonous vines Ivy carried around."

"Didn't Bruce make a pretty good weed killer for those?" he asked.

Mildly affronted, the redhead replied, "No, I did. That formula was twenty hours of playing with very delicate chemistry equipment. And since I'm on three different pain meds and recovering from a traumatic experience, you should know better than to question my analogies."

"My mistake," Dick grinned, grabbing her bag and throwing it over his shoulder. "Five minutes, then we can be on our way to your little box apartment with the sub-par walls and the shoddy plumbing."

"Dick, any reason you never took up real estate?"

* * *

"We're taking off, if you wanted to say goodbye."

"Goodbye," Bruce said from his place at the computer.

The statement wasn't mocking or unkind, which didn't surprise Dick as much as it would've the week before. "Sayonara," he responded affably. "I meant that if you wanted to say bye to Babs-"

"Barbara and I spoke this morning. We said all we needed to say."

Bruce had his back to him, but Dick caught a glimpse of his face in the monitor. The flash of pain across hardened features was difficult, but not impossible, to catch. "How'd that go?" Dick asked cautiously.

Swiveling his chair, Bruce fixed the younger man with a blank expression. "We said all we needed to say," he repeated.

"Right," Dick mumbled. Glancing around the Cave, he thought about how they'd basically lost Tim, about the near-miss with Barbara. He thought about how things were the last several days, about how, for the first time in forever, everyone in Wayne Manor made a conscious effort to get along. He thought about seeing Bruce as his surrogate father, rather than the man who'd ruined his life.

"Here," Bruce said, fishing a business card from his pocket and handing it to Dick. "Barbara will need some therapy on that knee. I've given her the same information, but you know Barbara. Make sure she gets in touch with him."

Surprised, Dick skimmed over the business card of a physical therapist in downtown Gotham, stashing the card in his jacket. "Okay," he said slowly, "but I'm just driving her home you know. She's not going to let me hang around for a few weeks to make sure she gets her exercise."

"Uh huh," Bruce replied flatly. His lips twitched in the barest hint of a smirk.

Dick blinked, sure he was being mocked. Somehow though, that knowledge didn't bother him too much. Allowing his own lips to turn upward, Dick glanced back at one of the far resources of the Cave. "Hey Bruce? You mind if I borrow some of the Batarangs? Maybe a couple of the smoke pellets?"

"I do, actually. Don't expect a Christmas present this year either, not after what I paid for that last order of gas masks."

Dick's mouth dropped open.

"Seven years of top-notch business classes and this is how you become an entrepreneur. I suppose I should take what I can get."

After ten seconds passed and Bruce hadn't yet tried to throttle him, Dick burst out laughing. His entire body shook with mirth as he tried to remember the last time he'd laughed like this. Wiping tears from his eyes, Dick straightened from his bent double position, discovering that Bruce was still wearing that smirk of amusement.

"Don't scratch the car," Bruce ordered, once his former ward got control of himself. "Be careful on the turns."

"Okay, Bruce."

Nodding, the billionaire turned back to his computer. "Bring it back by six so you can get your motorcycle out of my driveway."

"Affirmative," Dick replied. "You know, I have a late shift tomorrow…"

"What's your point?"

"Just…when I come back to pick up the bike, maybe we could…" He trailed off, gesturing vaguely at the surrounding area. He didn't know what he wanted; he didn't know what was behind this change in Bruce's attitude, not to mention his own. Then again, maybe he did. Maybe there'd been too much anger all across the board, maybe they'd already lost too much without losing any more time. Maybe the thought of Alfred's cherry pie was putting everyone in a more forgiving mood.

"You know when patrol starts," Bruce declared. "You know where I'll be until then."

Typical Wayne response, but different too. Different because Dick could sense something behind the words, something he hadn't heard during all those many, many arguments. "Yeah," Dick smiled, "I know where you'll be."

Turning on his heel, Dick headed for the stairs, only to have Bruce call his name. The older man kept working, hands moving swiftly over the keyboard, but that unnamable something was still present in his tone. "Dick," he started, gaze flickering to Tim's old Robin suit. "So much…a lot's happened in the last few years."

"Yeah," Dick replied, turning back to Bruce and the computer.

"A lot's happened, and it's been a long time since you first came here."

"Bruce?" The older man looked as close to nervous as he was capable of being.

"It's been a long time, and I guess I've forgotten. The early years, were they _good _for you?"

It wasn't the question he'd expected, but Dick gave it the necessary consideration. For half a second, he thought about the hurt and the fighting and the impossible standards. For another half a second, he thought about the things that were fuzzier, because a lot _had _happened, and it truly _had _been a long time. He thought about his parents being gone, about Bruce giving him a home and guidance and a purpose.

Realizing he had yet to answer, Dick let his mouth curve into a smile, meeting Bruce's eyes through the reflection on the monitor. "They were great, Bruce. The best."


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: **So…I didn't die. I probably should have, leaving you guys in the lurch as I did, but I'm still breathing. First, thanks to all of you who encouraged me to continue. I do not deserve your kind words and I bow down to your awesomeness if you still happen to care about this. Much of the reason this story stayed dormant was poor planning that's all down to me. I began this thing on a whim two years ago, with nothing but a vague suggestion of where I wanted to start and end. Usually, this lack of organization works itself out and I come out with something halfway decent. This time, I realized too late that much of what I wanted to put in this story wouldn't work. Some of it was structurally problematic, much of it was tonally problematic, and for the longest time, I scratched my head wondering how to fix the problems. Ultimately, I decided to scrap what couldn't be salvaged and just write the rest. As a result, this ended up being much shorter than I intended. In fact, this will be the last chapter. For now, read on, but if you could check out my continued rantings after you've finished, I'd be very much obliged.

* * *

If she'd been sleeping, he would've gone away unnoticed. If she'd had anything close to a normal sleep pattern (She hadn't had that, not for a few years now), Barbara never would've known he was there.

"Dick?" she said, watching him freeze halfway down her hallway, facing away from her. "Dick," the redhead repeated, more firmly this time. He'd been fleeing. He'd come here, knocked once, then he'd tried to run.

Sporting jeans and the usual black leather jacket, Dick stayed where he was, not bothering to face his ex. "Hey," he muttered softly, a slight tremor in his voice. Clearing his throat, Dick moved his hands from the pockets of his jeans to the pockets of the jacket, fighting an urge to shift from foot to foot. "Sorry, it's late. Early. I shouldn't…lost track of time. Sorry, go back to sleep."

"Hard to do if I wasn't sleeping," Barbara replied. Frowning deeply, she noted the stiffness in Dick's shoulders, a contrast to the casual position of his hands. "What's wrong?"

He refused to look at her, refused even to turn around. "Nothing. Sorry. I can't…I shouldn't be here." He began moving toward the elevator at the end of the hall.

"Don't," Barbara called, more sharply than she'd intended, stepping out of her doorway in pursuit. As she did, she noticed the spots of red dotting her door. Eyes widening, she reached him before he could protest, tugging lightly at his arm. "Dick, what's going on?"

"Barbara, I told you-"

"Let me see your hands."

"Barbara…"

She pulled his right hand out of his pocket. He hissed and she gasped. His fingers were soaked in red, skin broken in too many places to count. The knuckles were caked in blood, most of it dried, some of it not.

"Get in here," Barbara ordered, already pulling him back towards her door.

"It's fine," he insisted, moving to free himself. "I'm fine."

The crack in his voice was still there. He still refused to meet her eye. With her free hand, Barbara turned his face to hers, barely stifling a second gasp at the anguish she saw there. Unbidden, the memory of another night flew into her mind. He'd shown up late, that time she really _had _been sleeping. He'd told her that he couldn't take anymore, that he didn't know where else to turn. She hadn't understood what was wrong that night, she didn't understand now. But Dick hadn't talked to her that first night, he'd come and gone before she knew what had happened. Then she'd found out that Bruce was Batman and Dick was Robin. Then Dick was punching Bruce and throwing his Robin mask away like so much garbage. After that she hadn't seen him for two years.

"Get in here," the redhead repeated, her grip on his forearm very close to being painful. Something had been wrong years ago and Dick ran away and she'd let him, then he'd _really _run away. She wouldn't let him go again, not this time.

Ten minutes later he was sitting on the edge of her bathtub, hardly seeming to notice as she cleaned and bandaged his knuckles. His beloved jacket with the initials stitched inside had been tossed carelessly into a corner, exposing a tight black T-shirt and arms covered in gooseflesh.

"You sparring with brick walls again? Because you know I'm always here if you're that desperate for some practice."

The softly-spoken teasing drew a smile from him, albeit a weak one. "Wall would hold still, you wouldn't, not the same."

"Getting lazy in your old age?" Satisfied that his hands were as good as they were going to be, she stood up from where she'd been kneeling on the floor, washed her own hands, and began putting things back into her ridiculously large first-aid kit.

Dick didn't answer right away. Instead, he watched Barbara's movements. He wanted to help her clean things up, or at least make the offer, but he knew what she'd say. His throat felt tight, it was hard to swallow, and he didn't think he could make the words come anyway.

Kit in hand, Barbara went to leave the tiny bathroom, until she noticed the sudden panic in Dick's eyes. He made as if to grab her arm, but the redhead stopped him. Setting the white box down again, Barbara leaned down in front of him, speaking close to his ear. "Not leaving," she murmured. "I'll be back in a second."

Dick shivered, swallowing audibly. Her shoulder was right in front of him and so incredibly inviting, and for just a moment he rested his head there. He felt like holding her but didn't, keeping his hands where they were, resting almost limply against his thighs. "Sorry."

In what seemed an automatic response, Barbara pulled him in closer, briefly massaging the back of his neck. "What for?"

Shrugging, Dick pulled away, careful not to look directly into her eyes. Those eyes would be his undoing if he wasn't very, very careful. "Waking you up," he answered, glancing down at the tile under his feet. "Bleeding all over your floor."

Shaking her head, Barbara dismissed the apology. "Told you I wasn't sleeping. Pay attention, Grayson."

"I refuse."

"Fine," Barbara replied in mock exasperation. His voice was quiet and hollow, but at least he was talking. Now if she could just keep him that way… "Don't worry about the blood. It's an occupational hazard I've been forced to get used to."

"If you're trying to make me feel better, don't."

He meant it as a joke, but they both knew he wasn't really joking. "Sorry. You'll tell me what happened when I get back."

"Yeah," Dick said, his reluctance more than obvious. Still, though her tone had been kind, Barbara's intent was clear. She wasn't asking for the details, she was demanding them. Maybe she'd figured out that asking would never be enough, that her only option was not to give _him _any options.

Barbara nodded without moving. Dick's face was so close to hers, his features a study in despair. She couldn't remember the last time he'd smiled without there being at least a bit of sadness behind it. She felt like kissing him, settling for touching her forehead against his. Then, awkwardly, she ruffled his hair. It was a gesture she'd used on Tim more times than she could count. With Dick it was just strange.

If Dick felt the same way, he didn't show it. Smiling thinly, he let her leave, grabbing the first-aid kit as she went. Barbara sensed his scrutiny without being disturbed by it. He needed her, that fact couldn't have been plainer. Part of her thought that he'd always needed her, but that could be wishful thinking. Still, he'd needed her tonight and he'd even managed to come over here, never mind trying to leave at the last minute. If he wanted to stare at her, Barbara would let him.

In her bedroom, the redhead rooted through the bottom drawer of her dresser until she had what she wanted. Before returning to Dick, Barbara observed herself through the mirror on that same dresser. Part of it was about steeling herself to be strong for him. The other part was about making sure the thoughts in her head weren't visible on her face.

A year later and things should've been better. Leslie had worked tirelessly on Tim's therapy, and the boy was, according to his doctor, as close to okay as he'd ever be again. The elderly physician had worked miracles, done more than any of them could rightly expect of her. And still it wasn't enough. Tim was sane, but damaged. Barbara hated thinking of the boy in that way, but she couldn't help it. Though he was no longer Joker's protégé, neither was Tim the boy they all knew and loved. He closed himself off as much as he could, a situation that wasn't helped when Bruce locked up his Robin costume. Barbara didn't blame him. It was the only decision to make and everyone involved knew that. Everyone but Tim.

Batman was on the streets again, had been for some time now. Barbara had been surprised by how long Bruce stayed out of the cave, how long he gave all his attention, everything he had, to his adopted son. Barbara had been surprised, Dick had been shocked. Still, even with Batman's return, Nightwing had been moving between Gotham and Bludhaven, doing whatever he could to help in both cities. He still worked as a cop, though his captain had threatened to change that on several occasions. The strain was getting to be too much, not that Dick would admit that. Or maybe he would. Maybe that was why he was sitting in her bathroom with bloody hands and bloodshot eyes, looking so utterly crestfallen.

Shaking herself back to the present, Barbara reentered the bathroom, lightly tossing a bundle of clothes into his lap. He seemed confused and the redhead took pity on him. "You're in shock, you need to change."

He sighed. "I'm not in shock, Barbara."

He was shivering, and he'd been doing it since they entered the apartment. Occasionally, when he wasn't clenching his jaw shut, Barbara could hear his teeth chatter. Crossing her arms, Barbara glared threateningly. "Change now or I'll call Alfred. Do you need any help?"

"I can put my own clothes on, not that I need to."

"I'll call Alfred."

"I'm not afraid of Alfred."

"Yes you are. I'll call Alfred and Leslie."

The prospect of being double-teamed had Dick looking pale. "You wouldn't."

She raised an eyebrow.

Dick sighed again. "You would."

"I would. Change, I'll make you some-"

"Stay," Dick said earnestly.

For some reason, Barbara had to look away from him just then. "Dick I-"

"You said I'd tell you what happened when you got back. You're back, now stay."

Barbara forced her eyes upward. "You need-"

"-to change, I know. Nothing you haven't seen before, Babs, and we can both pretend to be adults for a few minutes. Unless-"

He smiled suggestively and Barbara cut him off. "Bad as this is for your ego, I think I can keep my eyes and hands to myself."

"Good. I trust you, you trust you, what's the problem?"

"Maybe I_ don't_ trust you."

She'd been teasing, it was obvious that she'd been teasing. Or maybe it wasn't that obvious. Dick, who'd lightened up just then, visibly deflated. Nodding sadly, he spoke in a rough, broken voice. "Yeah, I guess you wouldn't. Hell, I don't even trust myself anymore."

Eyes widening, Barbara took a step forward. "Dick, I didn't mean-"

"Turn around," he interrupted.

"But-"

"It's okay," he said, not unkindly. "Just turn around."

He wasn't leaving, and he hadn't asked her to leave the room, so things weren't as bad as they could be. Barbara turned, realized she could still see him through the mirror over the sink, and shut her eyes. She heard him fidgeting, heard the sounds of shoes coming off and a zipper being undone. Briefly, she considered sneaking a peek, berating herself for it.

Her romance with Bruce was well and truly over. Technically speaking, she'd been the one to end things. Honestly speaking, Bruce had broken it off long before now. She'd been determined not to let their guilt over Tim tear them apart. Usually, her determination and her willpower were enough. This time they hadn't been. She'd gone back to spending the nights in her own long-neglected apartment though, as with tonight, sleep was a rare commodity.

It wasn't Bruce that kept her awake, not really. Perspective told her that their relationship was a lost cause, had been from the very start. Dick had been right all along. His words may've been born out of jealousy, but he _had _been right.

Jealousy. For the longest time, Barbara told herself that seeing Bruce had nothing to do with Dick, that she was with the billionaire because she loved and respected him. And that had been true. But just as hindsight showed her that Dick had been right about her and Bruce, it also showed that her motives in seeing Bruce hadn't been entirely pure. She loved and respected the man, and they'd been all each other had after Dick left that second time.

She loved Bruce, respected Bruce. In Dick's absence, it wasn't unnatural for them to see if that love could change, to see if they could go from loving each other to _being _in love.

And…she'd wanted to make Dick jealous. Like a high school girl with a crush, she'd wanted to make him jealous. More than that, she'd wanted to hurt him. Hurt him the way he'd hurt her when he hit Bruce and walked away, when he came back and treated her with something bordering on contempt. When he left the second time, after New Year's, that had been the last straw.

It was petty and childish, using Bruce to get to Dick. Even though Dick hadn't been the only reason she talked Bruce into attempting a relationship, Barbara couldn't entirely forgive herself. It would be easier if Dick was still being a jerk, giving her the cold shoulder every chance he got, treating her as if she'd betrayed him. But he'd changed since Tim's attack, as had they all. He was kind, careful of her feelings, he was there when she had the flashbacks of Tim in white makeup and purple clothing. By necessity, they'd grown close again, kept each other from going as crazy as the Joker himself over the past year. For the longest time, Barbara had refused to acknowledge that she'd ever been in love with Dick. Then she'd maintained to herself that if she ever _had _loved him, she couldn't remember why. Now, finally, she was starting to remember.

"Isn't this mine?"

Eyes snapping open. Barbara looked at him through the mirror. He was bare-chested holding up the gray sweatshirt she'd given him. Mentally, Barbara kicked herself. She'd grabbed the clothes without really looking, without noticing the letters that spelled out 'Gotham University.' Barbara willed herself not to blush. "You left it here, a long time ago."

"And you kept it?" he asked, an odd inflection to his voice.

"I was using it as a rag," she lied. Aside from being a little worn, the shirt was as it had been when he'd seen it last.

"Oh," Dick replied, still eyeing the garment.

"If you need it back," said Barbara, hoping she sounded normal and knowing that she didn't.

"I don't," he said. "Got another three of them at the loft. It looked better on you anyway."

He said this neutrally, without a hint of flirtation. Barbara felt the blood rushing to her face. She hoped he wouldn't go further with this, slightly surprised when he didn't. Slipping the shirt on, Dick eyed the pair of dark-blue GCPD sweats now covering his thighs. "The Commissioner's?"

He sounded either vaguely worried or vaguely disgusted, and Barbara couldn't help smiling. "Mine. New pair every year, this year someone made a pretty big sizing mistake. Never got around to returning them."

Seemingly relieved that he wasn't wearing anything that had ever been worn by his ex's father, Dick gave another thin smile. Then he winced, glanced down at his hands, and the smile was gone.

"I can get you some painkillers," the redhead offered, knowing what her patient would say.

"No. Just…"

She waited, but he said nothing else. "Come here. Come to the living room and we'll talk about it."

Lowering his head, Dick kept his seat on the lip of the tub.

Sighing, Barbara crossed back to him, sitting on the floor next to his legs. She'd asked him if he was injured anywhere else and he'd denied it. She'd seen his arms and chest, no marks there. He wasn't limping or showing any other signs of discomfort, except for when he moved his hands. Which he was doing now, twiddling his fingers and twisting them together as if she hadn't just used the last of her bandages to fix them. Reaching up, Barbara gently touched his wrist. "Stop."

He stopped. In the quiet that followed, Barbara focused on his slightly ragged breathing. "Hey," she said, absently stroking his wrist. "I'm glad you're here."

"Me too," he replied, after the barest of hesitations.

When nothing else was forthcoming, she took her hand back, moving it to rest lightly on his knee. "I'm glad you're here Dick, but I have to be at work in three hours."

He smirked a little. "That your subtle way of telling me to get on with it?"

"You think?"

There was another pause, this one longer. He went from looking at her to looking at the wall. "You were right."

Barbara blinked. "About what?"

Dick shook his head. "You and Tim both, really. You both said that I was more like Bruce than I realized."

"What's going on, Dick?"

"Do you remember the night I graduated? I broke our date and showed up here talking like a crazy person."

"You weren't making sense," Barbara corrected. "But I'd gotten used to that, even then." She didn't tell him that she'd been pondering that same night just a few minutes ago.

"I never told you why I came here," Dick continued as if he hadn't heard her. In a different voice he said, "I never told you a lot of things."

"So tell me now."

"Bruce was looking for information on the Joker. We were chasing this hood who was working for him. Guy made it to his apartment before we caught up with him."

"But you caught up with him."

"We caught up with him, but he wasn't alone. His family was there. Wife and a son."

Involuntarily, Barbara's hand squeezed Dick's knee. She had a sinking feeling that she knew where this was heading.

"Batman interrogated him. Gave him the usual treatment with his family in the same room. I told Bruce to take him outside, but he wouldn't listen. He wouldn't listen and I couldn't be there, with this little boy aiming a toy gun, yelling at us to leave his dad alone."

Barbara didn't know what to say. She was more than familiar with Bruce's methods, though she thought he'd settled down when Tim joined the team. Still. Intelligent as she was, Barbara didn't see what this had to do with Dick's being here now. Fortunately, she didn't wait long for an explanation.

"I…I'd just gotten off work at the station. I was walking home, got maybe two blocks and I pass the alleyway behind this apartment building. Just as I'm going by, the door slams open and this kid comes flying out. He goes sprawling on the pavement half a second before his _father_," Dick paused on that word, eyes gleaming with a rare level of anger. Barbara squeezed his knee again and he made himself continue.

"This kid's father comes barreling out, yanks him off the ground, slams him against the wall and starts screaming at him. Calling him worthless, a waste of space, things like that. This boy was terrified and the dad wasn't backing off and I.."

He trailed off, gently taking Barbara's hand off his knee, as if he couldn't bear to be touched. His eyes met hers and Barbara saw naked horror there, so intense that it frightened her."The boy," she asked cautiously, "how old-"

"Twelve, thirteen, I don't remember. I'm sure his age is in the report somewhere. He reminded me of Tim. Same color hair, same build. And I just, I lost my mind for a minute, Barbara. All I could think of was what Joker did to Tim and I just…I saw red."

Barbara shut her eyes tightly. The footage of Tim's torture was something neither of them were ever supposed to see. Bruce had taken the Joker's 'home movies' before they'd left Arkham. He'd insisted that Barbara wasn't to see them, but she had. He'd hidden the footage deep within the recesses of the Cave's computer, but not deep enough. Why Bruce hadn't simply destroyed the film was something she didn't know. Except that she did. He was using the footage to punish himself. Dick had come downstairs while Barbara watched Tim being strapped down and electrocuted. They'd both wanted to turn away, turn the whole blasted computer off, but neither had been able to do it. They'd watched transfixed as Tim suffered and screamed. Afterward, they went upstairs, threw up, and went to a bar until closing time. Things couldn't have been the same after they actually saw what had been done to their surrogate brother.

"I took it out on him, Barbara. I did to him what I'd do to the Joker if he was still here."

Barbara stared at him hard, trying to hide her fear. "Dick, you didn't-"

"He's alive, only because of the boy, the one who looked like Tim. I'd forgotten he was there until he started crying and begging me not to kill his father. I thought it was horrible, what Bruce did to that man, questioning him in front of his family. I thought Bruce was out of control. But he wasn't, not then, not ever. He's never done what I…"

He'd gone from shivering to shaking. He slumped forward again, head nearly resting against his knees. Barbara once again knelt in front of him, putting her fingers under his chin to force eye contact. "You were defending the boy," she said firmly.

"I was using excessive force," Dick countered. "And the boy is defending his father. Kid's got cuts and bruises everywhere his clothes can cover, a couple of broken ribs, and he's defending the father."

"He's been brainwashed," Barbara replied, voice cracking. "You know how these cases work."

"I do. I also know how to handle a threat without bashing someone's face in."

"But he's alive. He'll be all right?" She hadn't actually thought Dick would beat a man to death, but she needed to know the extent of the damage.

"He'll live, but that's not the point, is it?" Dick asked miserably.

No, no it wasn't. "The Bludhaven PD, what're they-"

"Suspension, pending further investigation. Captain says that it shouldn't lose me my job. You know how it is, take care of our own. God Babs."

He leaned forward a bit, then seemed to think better of it. Barbara put her arms around him, not letting up when he put up a small struggle. He wasn't crying, but his breathing was much too sharp, much too quick. He refused to return the embrace. "Listen to me," she ordered with a mixture of ferocity and compassion. "It's going to be okay. I promise you it's going to be okay."

Dick laughed into her neck, the sound coming hollow and bitter. "It hasn't been okay in over a year, Barbara. Nothing has."

Suddenly he was crying in silence, his tears falling onto her neck and shoulder. Just as suddenly, his arms were around her, so tight they almost stole her breath away. Barbara held him tighter, ignoring the way her knees protested being on the tile for so long. She'd lost track of how many times they'd done this recently, cried into each other as if each was the only thing holding the other together. Bruce and Tim had shut themselves off for their own reasons, leaving Dick and Barbara to fend for themselves.

After a few minutes of softly-voiced reassurances that did nothing to help, Barbara pushed Dick back a little. Again, he seemed panicked by the loss of contact. "I'm here. I'm not leaving, but you need to hear me."

"I screwed up, Barbara."

"You did. And after the year we've had I can't believe it didn't happen sooner. Dick it's been too much. For any of us to take. And you-"

"I didn't come here to have excuses made for me. I screwed up, and there's no room for that."

He was paraphrasing one of Bruce's mantras. "You don't think Bruce makes mistakes? You don't think he regrets that night you told me about? You've been there for Bludhaven and Gotham and…me…for so long now. You can't be perfect."

"That's what I have to be, Barbara. You know that, we had the same teacher."

Suddenly he leaned forward, kissing away the single tear she hadn't realized was falling down her cheek. Despite his own emotional turmoil, he still worried about her. He always had, Barbara realized. Even when he'd disappeared for two years, even when he'd done his level best to ignore her after his return, he'd always worried. Barbara tried to stifle the tears that wanted to follow the one he'd gotten rid of.

"Bruce will order me off the streets."

Dick's tears appeared to be subsiding, at least for now. Again, Barbara didn't know what to say. It wasn't as if Bruce wouldn't find out. And when he did, Dick _would_ be ordered to stop. The only question was whether the ban would be permanent or temporary. Not that Dick would necessarily _listen _if Bruce did go the more extreme route.

"Not that he'd be wrong. Obviously I'm not…not fit for the job right now."

"So take a break, you don't think you've earned that much?"

"No, I really don't."

She wouldn't have him turn into Bruce. She wouldn't lose him again because of one bad night that he'd never be able to change. Frustrated, Barbara tried and failed at keeping her voice neutral. "So you didn't come here for excuses. Why then? You expect me to validate this belief that a year's worth of hell isn't supposed to have an impact on you, that you're supposed to be some paragon of perfection? Because it's not going to happen."

One corner of Dick's mouth pulled upwards. "Paragon of perfection? You read too much. You'd make a great librarian."

Chuckling in spite of herself, Barbara punched him lightly on the arm. "God forbid someone uses words with multiple syllables and reads more than the Sunday comics."

"Can I tell you something Babs? A secret?"

He'd gone from crying to laughing to serious again in the space of a few seconds. She wondered when he'd last had more than a few hours sleep. "Do we still have secrets? I didn't know that." That was a lie. He didn't know her secret. That, at some point during all this misery, she'd started to fall back in love with him, if she'd ever truly been out of it.

"You asked why I came here. Because I knew you'd open the door. And I knew you'd drag me in, even if I didn't want you to. And I knew you'd make me hate myself a little less right now, even if I didn't want that either."

"What _do_ you want, Dick?" The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. She hated seeing him like this. At that moment there wasn't much she wouldn't do for him, if it would take some of the pain away.

Dick studied her for a long time before answering. Despite their proximity to one another, his reply was still hard to discern. "Things you can't give me."

Her breath caught at the look in his eye. "The way you were just talking made it sound like I could do anything."

Dick chuckled ruefully resting his lips on her forehead and leaving them there. "I wish I'd told you that night, after graduation."

She pulled back with a frown as soon as his lips were gone. "Don't. Don't regret what you can't change. We were kids, you weren't ready."

"Does that mean you don't have regrets?"

She couldn't lie to him, not under this much scrutiny. "You're changing the subject."

"Perceptive as always. Tell you a secret?"

"I thought you already were."

"Different secret. You have to promise not to get angry."

"I won't get angry."

"Because I don't want…the one good thing to come from all this is having you in my life again and I don't want-"

"We've had this conversation Dick. At this point, nothing you could say-"

"I love you."

The redhead blinked. Several times. "I love you too."

"No. Love as in _in _love. I didn't show it well because I was a stupid, angry kid who figured things out too slowly."

Barbara didn't breathe for several seconds. "Dick…" She was lost here. He was so emotional right now, his judgment clouded by what had happened. And she, she'd only just accepted, after years of pretending to be through with him, that she was nowhere near through with him. She opened her moth to speak, but he cut her off.

"I didn't say it to hear it back."

But what if she wanted to say it back? "Then why?"

"Because I didn't tell you years ago, and I wish I had. I wish I'd been there when you needed me. I wish-"

Barbara cut him off, her lips smothering his next words. The last time they kissed, it had been New Year's and he'd been about to leave. That kiss had been slow. Aching. Tender. This was hard and passionate and desperate. Injured though they were, Dick's hands were running all over her body. Barbara stood from the ground, grabbed a handful of Gotham University sweatshirt and brought him with her. They stood in the middle of her cramped bathroom, kissing in a way that both of them had wanted to for so long. The tension between them had been simmering for months, now it was finally boiling over. Barbara was on the verge of divesting Dick of the shirt she'd so recently given him when the man in question finally broke for air.

"Barbara," he murmured as she began kissing up his jaw line."

"What?" she asked, without pausing from her task.

"We can't."

She froze, looking at him in bewilderment.

Gauze-covered fingers touching her chin, Dick gazed at her with a mixture of deep desire and deeper pain. "You just ended things with…"

Dick seemed unable to speak his mentor's name. For her part, Barbara was more than a little confused. Things with Bruce had ended months ago. Dick couldn't think that one event related to the other. Did he? Did he really think that she'd do this out of simple loneliness, that she didn't know exactly what she was getting into? The notion made her temper flare slightly. Then she realized something. Dick put a stop to things because he thought she was too emotional, not in the right frame of mind. She meanwhile, knowing that he was an emotional train-wreck had allowed herself to…oh God. He'd admitted himself how desperate he was, how much he needed a friend. And she'd been about to…oh damn.

"Dammit," Barbara hissed, pulling away from him like she'd been burned. Turning her back, Barbara put a hand over her kiss-bruised mouth, willing herself not t cry.

"I'm sorry Babs-"

"Dick, I shouldn't have-"

They spoke simultaneously, then stopped simultaneously. Laughing nervously, Barbara turned back around, forcing herself to meet his eyes. "I'm-"

"Don't be sorry. If you're sorry, I can't be sorry."

Flawed argument, it was very possible for them both to be sorry, but the redhead didn't point this out. "When did you become the sensible one?"

Dick snorted. "Is that a serious question? Hell if I know." He sobered again. "I do love you, don't doubt that."

"I don't," Barbara replied. "Doubt that." They'd resisted this so far, the cliché of falling into each other's arms just because one or the other needed comfort. It would be a shame to fall into that trap now.

"Good," Dick nodded awkwardly. "Because it's not that I wouldn't-"

"I know. Me too. But not…not like this."

"We're not thinking clea-"

"We haven't been. Not since Tim."

"And he still needs us…"

"To be there for him. And we can't do that if we're…"

"Caught up in the never-ending soap opera of Dick and Babs?" Dick offered.

"Yes. That." She loved him, the same way he claimed to love her, but she couldn't tell him that. Not now, after all this time of saying there was no hope for them, not when he was so obviously in distress, not when she they both had larger responsibilities to contend with.

Nervously, Dick stepped forward again. She hugged him and he sighed, briefly taking in the scent of her hair. He was in love with her. So much. But he didn't want her like this, not with Bruce still fresh in her mind. And he certainly didn't want her out of pity, out of some misplaced attempt to comfort him. "I love you," he repeated. He didn't know what caused him to say it in the first place, and he didn't know what sort of bizarre force was turning him into a parrot now."

"You too," Barbara whispered, tenderly kissing his cheek. "Always." For now, she needed to believe that his true feelings were of friendship and nothing more. For now, she had to believe that.

"Are we okay?"

Barbara almost laughed. They hadn't really been okay in over a year. "Yes," she promised, pulling back to look in his eyes. "And we _will _be okay. You and I, Tim, what happened with that man tonight, it'll be okay."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Because you're unnaturally smart. If you say that, my simpleton brain will take it as fact."

Barbara smiled, flashing white teeth. "It'll be okay. Promise."

* * *

Truth be told, it hadn't been okay. Bruce, as predicted, ordered him off of Gotham's streets 'Until his head cleared.' Dick hadn't argued. What he'd done in that alley scared him, and he didn't want a repeat. Trying to keep his job and keep his co-workers from arresting him took up enough time that he didn't miss the extra patrols in Gotham.

Tim's reaction was a surprise to all. Bruce had banned Nightwing from his city, not Dick Grayson, but the boy reacted as if Bruce had banished his older brother from the face of the earth. Soon enough, the group of vigilantes realized that after having his own costume locked away, Tim couldn't stand the idea of Bruce disabling Nightwing as well. It was one reason among the pile of others that Tim had eventually left them.

His departure was too much. It hurt them all, worse even then when Dick left. Part of their group was gone; the link that held them all together had disappeared. Dick returned to Bludhaven and Barbara didn't try to stop him this time. Again, she stayed with Bruce. Or at least Batgirl did. Until a few months ago, when Babs announced that she was forevermore out of the hero life. A few weeks after that, she and Dick spent New Year's Eve together. He kissed her and she ran and then she very nearly died.

Shaking his head to clear the bad thoughts, Dick reached out to knock on her door, only to have it swing open as he raised his hand. Barbara grinned at him from the doorway, decked out in comfortable jeans and his old Gotham University sweatshirt.

"Eager are we?" Dick asked, smile threatening to split his face.

"Starved. Price of admission?" Raising an eyebrow, she held out her hand until he passed her the bag in his other hand. "Chinese?"

"Yup. That acceptable to you?"

"Get in here, Grayson," Barbara ordered, pulling him inside.

Ridding himself of his jacket, Dick joined her on the couch, watching in amusement as Barbara tore ravenously into the containers of food. "What would Alfred say if he saw you behaving like this?"

Scowling, Barbara pointed threateningly with the pair of chopsticks in her hand. "Probably that I was spending too much time with you."

"Ouch," Dick replied, one hand over his chest as he reached for some rice with the others. "Seriously, you practicing a religious fast or what?"

"I've been in front of the computer for the last four hours, haven't had time to eat."

Dick nodded, a smirk on his lips. "All those adult pictures on the Internet can be pretty distracting."

Barbara nearly choked on her sweet-and-sour chicken. "Thank you for that fascinating glimpse into how you spend your nights."

"Anytime, I know it's an interesting subject. What was it really, trying for a new Tetris record?"

"Yes," Barbara answered without missing a beat.

Dick blinked in surprise. "Yes?"

"In between hacking some government files and sending the data over to the Cave, yes, I was playing Tetris."

"Oh. New high score?"

"It's me, what do you think?"

"I think you are the most charming egomaniac I've ever had eggrolls with. And," he added, snatching up a napkin and bringing it to her lips, "I think you have sauce on your lip."

If he noticed Barbara's breathing change just then, Dick didn't show it. "Aren't you going to offer me a drink?" he asked teasingly.

"Why should I?" Barbara retorted, hitching one eyebrow.

"I paid for the food."

"I just meant that usually you barge in here, kick off your shoes, and raid my fridge without permission. I don't know why you'd need to ask now."

"Barge, is that what I do? Not my fault you yank me in before I can make my presence known. If I didn't know better I'd say you were excited to see me."

"Nah, just worried about what the neighbors will say if they keep seeing you here every other night. You can have a drink if you want, as long as you grab me something while you're up."

"What, you're not going to play hostess and serve me?"

Barbara tilted her head sideways, regarding him for a long moment.

"Okay, you're not going to play hostess and serve me," said Dick. Rising from the couch, he moved from the living room into her sad excuse for a kitchen. "I didn't know you worried about being Miss Popularity within the apartment complex," he remarked, grabbing two sodas from her refrigerator.

Shrugging, Barbara reached across her coffee table, found the remote, and switched on the TV. "I think Mrs. Claxton down the hall is reporting to my father."

Dick froze halfway back to the couch. "The old lady with the dogs that look like rats?"

The redhead shot him a quick glare over her shoulder. "Be nice, Peaches is a very sweet animal. And yes, her. Dad's been overprotective ever since the car accident, like someone else I know."

Ducking his head, Dick reclaimed his place, vaulting over the couch and landing smoothly next to the redhead before handing her a beverage. Maybe he _had_ spent a fair bit of time with her since the crash, but so what? Bruce _had _asked him to look out for Barbara, make sure she got to her therapy appointments okay and didn't do anything foolish. Reminding her of this, Dick grabbed a pair of chopsticks and began the arduous task of trying to make them work.

"True, but therapy ended weeks ago. And honestly, I believe the only reason you bothered picking me up all the time was so you could glare threateningly at Mark."

"_Mark _couldn't keep his hands off you."

Exasperated, Barbara muted the TV she'd just turned on before shifting to face Dick. "We've been over this. Multiple times. Mark is a physical therapist. Putting his hands on me is part of his job."

"Must you say it like that?" Dick asked, shuddering theatrically. "Anyway, he was using his job description as an excuse, he still wanted something from you."

"Payment for the rehab?"

"No, that he got from Bruce. He wanted something else."

"Yes, because me being covered and cuts and bruises with a gimpy knee, I'm sure he found that so irresistible."

"So am I. Everyone finds you irresistible."

"Did you just wink at me?"

"I thought it would seem suave."

"It didn't. And use a fork instead of spilling your food all over my floor." Deftly, she took the chopsticks from his hand, setting them aside.

"Why are there flowers on your table?" Dick asked, eyeing a nearby vase and fully forgetting about his dinner.

"Took you long enough to notice."

"Barbara," he said, drawing her name out.

"Dick," he teased. "They're just a get well present, if you really have to know."

"Wasn't it enough that you got flowers and fruit baskets from the entire Justice League? Whoever they're from took long enough to locate a florist."

"First off, what is this obsession with the League? I'm sure that if you drove your bike over a cliff and broke every bone in your body, Superman and Wonder Woman would send you flowers too. And secondly, _those _flowers are from Sam. He's been out of town, he only just found out what happened."

Dick's eyes became distinctly narrower. "Sam?"

Barbara rolled her eyes. "Down, Grayson. Sam Young. He's an assistant at the D.A's office, my father introduced us."

"Did he. And?"

Barbara shrugged. "He's sweet, we went out a few tines."

"Oh." Slumping a little, Dick pretended to look at the television. "And does the Commissioner plan to arrange any more blind dates?"

"Not if Mrs. Claxton tells him you and I are sleeping together."

Dick, having taken a sip from his drink, promptly choked. Barbara patted him hard on the back.. "Is that what he thinks?" Dick spluttered, once he'd regained the ability to breathe. James Gordon had always liked him well enough, but that might've changed if the cop was aware of Dick's numerous falling's-out with his daughter. Visions of SWAT teams bursting into his apartment with Jim Gordon leading the charge danced unpleasantly in Dick's mind.

Barbara shrugged. " Mrs. Claxton likes gossip and bad romance novels. That, combined with how much time you spend here…"

Dick studied her for a moment. "Is uh…is that a problem?"

The seriousness of his tone got Barbara's attention. "What?"

"Me. Spending time here."

The frown that briefly marred her features disappeared. "No," she assured him, finding his hand on the couch and giving it a squeeze. "No problem yet. I'll let you know when I get sick of you, probably with a Batarang to the head."

Chuckling, Dick returned the squeeze, fighting the urge to bring her hand to his lips. Just as they'd drifted apart after Tim left, they'd drifted together after Barbara's accident. He'd only meant to drive her back from the Manor after Bruce gave the okay, yet somehow he'd stayed in this apartment for hours, hovering over her and asking annoying questions about her well-being while they talked of nothing terribly important. The night after that was spent here as well, partly because he'd developed a strong disinclination to be away from Barbara, partly because she was still having nightmares about whatever she'd seen while under Scarecrow's influence. Without either of them realizing it, a routine soon developed. He took her to and from the physical therapy, then they returned to the apartment and talked of inconsequential things, things that didn't involve crime or madness or death. Barbara's nightmares, an after-effect of Crane's toxin, subsided within the week. Dick's nightmares about what could've happened to her weren't as quick to go away. Despite his work at the station and his work as Nightwing, Dick found himself more and more either in Barbara's apartment, or with Barbara at his own residence. Occasionally they broached the tough subjects, but mostly it was like this. Mostly they sat and talked of nothing and criticized each other's taste in movies.

Dick was glad to hear that Barbara still enjoyed their time together. He'd worried that after she was completely free of Crane's toxin, after she'd healed properly, she might not crave his company anymore. However, with her cowl days behind her, Babs seemed to appreciate the diversion. Not that she wasn't kept busy. Barbara's initial worries about feeling useless once Batgirl retired had proved groundless. Under the codename Oracle, Barbara regularly employed her computer genius to help various members of the Justice League, never mind throwing in the usual eight hours at her day job.

"Dick?"

"What?"

"Am I boring you?"

"Never." Grinning, he threw caution to the wind and brought her knuckles to his mouth. It pleased him that that her skin turned a shade similar to her hair. "Just thinking."

Barbara gasped dramatically.

"No, you don't hold the patent on that. What were we talking about?"

"Your jealousy problem, last I remember."

"You remember everything," Dick replied, wondering about this Sam Young person who was apparently sweet enough to send Babs roses. "So. You said that if Jim thinks we're seeing each other, he won't introduce you to any more D.A.'s assistants?"

Barbara punched him hard in the arm.

"That's going to bruise," Dick pouted. "I want my shirt back."

Frowning, Barbara looked down at her own attire. It seemed that she'd forgotten what she was wearing. On realizing that the sweatshirt had once belonged to him, Barbara gave Dick a challenging stare. "No. I asked you once if you wanted it and you said no, you've forfeited the rights."

Dick blinked, expression changing as he remembered the night she was speaking of. Unconsciously, his gaze flicked to the hallway leading to her bathroom. Shaking his head, Dick took a breath before returning his eyes to Barbara's. They hadn't touched any of the tough subjects, at least not for long. They hadn't touched this one at all. "Hey, you think we could talk about something?"

"I know we could. We've been talking about things for awhile now."

"Stop being difficult."

"No."

"Why?"

"I like being difficult."

"Right. Obvious."

"You don't like that I'm difficult?"

Dick smiled without answering. "Before the Scarecrow thing, before the crash we uh, you know…"

"Oh," Babs replied, her own smile fading. "The kiss."

"Right. The kiss. And…we never…talked about…"

"No," she affirmed, face and voice both impossible to read. "I guess we should then."

Shrugging, Dick examined a piece of lint on his jeans. "If you don't want to-"

"No! No, I mean…it's fine. Really. I mean, it was New Year's right? There was champagne, we were a little nostalgic and we…we just had to be slaves to tradition."

Trying not to let his disappointment show, Dick forced himself to get eye contact. "Is that all it was?"

"Dick, I…"

"Just, the way you took off after…"

"I know, it was stupid. I just…"

She looked down. Brushing a finger under her chin, Dick remedied that problem. "It's okay," he said quietly. "If that's all it was, I understand. Don't worry about it."

"If. Does that mean it was more than that? For you?"

Dick breathed deeply again. "I don't know if I should answer that. You say you haven't gotten sick of me yet and I don't want-"

"Dick? Please. We…we've never been good about being honest with each other have we?"

"That's probably a fair statement," he agreed, smirking a bit.

"Right. But, whatever you tell me I won't…I've missed you, you know. And I refuse to lose you again because we decide to be honest for once."

"So…speak freely then?"

"Yeah. Please."

There was a pause. "You first."

"What?"

"You be honest first."

"That's not fair."

"I disagree."

"Well I disagree with your disagreement."

"You know how I feel, Babs. I've told you before." His eyes bored into hers. She knew what he was referring to, she must.

"Dick, that was a long time ago-"

"And the night I told you, I was a complete mess. I know that, Barbara. I was upset, didn't change the truth of what I said. Neither has time or distance or anything else. I almost lost you again and that scares me and we have this bad habit of losing each other…"

"And you think that would change if we tried again?"

"I think…that I've missed you, too. And I think we're different people, better people. I mean, since the crash, we've actually been able to have a civil conversation with Bruce. The three of us, in the same room. That's got to mean growth, right?"

He certainly had a point. "You think we have a shot this time, after all the others we've managed to miss?"

Dick took both of her hands in his. "I think there's a shot. But I don't want to screw this up, and I know I've done that before. So if you don't want to…I'd understand if you didn't want to. Just...stay in my life somehow, okay? If it's as a friend, then fine. I'm fine with that. As long as your somewhere in my life, I don't care. I'll do whatever you want, be whatever you want."

Barbara was momentarily speechless. For so long he'd tried pushing her into or out of things. He hadn't wanted her to be Batgirl, he'd wanted her to go to Bludhaven with him, he'd wanted her to end it with Bruce. She couldn't remember this happening before, Dick putting the ball so completely in her court. She wasn't sure how to react.

"Babs," he said nervously, "I-"

She hugged him tight, tight enough that he lost what he was going to say. "I love you," she murmured into his neck.

Dick stiffened a little. "I know, you too."

Shaking her head against his shoulder, Barbara pulled back far enough to press her lips to his. It was tentative at first, both waiting for the other to stop. Then it stopped being tentative. Hands roamed over each other and it took quite awhile before they took a break to breathe.

"I love you," Barbara repeated, kissing his ear. "As in being _in_ love."

"Yeah?" Dick asked, tenderly brushing their foreheads together.

"Yeah," she confirmed, running fingers through dark hair.

"Me too. I always have."

The redhead hummed in agreement, putting her head on his chest as he gripped her more securely.

"Barbara?"

"What?"

"Have dinner with me."

She looked up at him. "I am," she said, gesturing at the takeout surrounding them.

Dick swore quietly to himself. "Have dinner with me somewhere else. In your outside clothes. Not that I don't like the sweatshirt."

"You should, you bought it. When am I supposed to do this?"

"Whenever's good for you."

"Where will we eat?"

"Wherever you want."

She pretended to consider. "You know I'd have more choices if I had dinner with Kara—Supergirl. Last time we hung out, I had linguini in Italy."

"Have lunch with Kara, satisfy your exotic food desires, then have dinner with me. We'll grab a burger."

"Romantic."

"I'll bring flowers. Better than those flowers," Dick added, jerking his thumb at Sam Young's roses.

"Ah. Superman brought me this beautiful orchid from the Amazon."

"I will get Superman to get me another one of the orchids he got you as long as you shut up right now."

"Long as that's settled," Barbara replied. Then she kissed him again.

* * *

But everything changes if I could  
Turn back the years if you could  
Learn to forgive me  
Then I could learn how to feel

Then we could stay here together  
And we could conquer the world  
If we could say that forever  
Is more than just a word

* * *

**Author's Note the Second: **So there you have it. After all the scrapping of what I couldn't use, this didn't turn out precisely as I wanted it to. However, it does bring a hint of closure for those of you who continued to ask me for it. That being said, I intentionally left things fairly open-ended. Those of you beholden to Batman Beyond continuity will note that Barbara could still end up with…that guy I hate. If you choose to believe that she ended up with…that guy I hate, go right ahead. On a different subject, the ideas that didn't work here are still drifting somewhere in my head, and they may show up in a different form somewhere down the road. Flawed as this story was, I still enjoyed writing it, and this couple still has a special place for me. So after you guys have stopped yelling at me for being such a God-awful updater, I may crawl out from under my desk and put together a few more sentences about Babs not ending up with…that guy I hate.


End file.
